Who's watching you now?
by writeroneday
Summary: What happens when Reese knows the next Number, please read and review
1. Chapter 1

As always I do not own POI. I receive no money for writing this. Please read and review. If there is something you like, please let me know. If you don't like it let me know too. It is how I perfect my writing. I want to thank Alice for proof reading for me.

John Reese stepped out of the hotel room into the hall way and shut the door, making sure it was locked. Dawn was still an hour off. He had left the key on the dresser. It had been one of his better random choices. The water was hot, the bed not too lumpy and the sheets had at least looked clean. It had actually also been a fairly quiet night, only one crying baby a floor down and some drunk above him. And this cheep hotel had actually had an in-room coffee pot that worked. He walked to the end of the hall and went down the three flights of stairs. There were a couple of junkies lying on the steps on the second floor. He stepped over them, continued down and out the back door. Would this rain ever stop? He sipped at the paper cup full of coffee and watched as the rain fell from the dark gray skies. Manhattan was a very wet city right now. It had been raining for four days almost without a break. Not really heavy, but just raining. There was some kind of disturbance in the weather pattern sending all the storms right up the east coast line.

He would stop and get Finch's favorite pastries this morning. He knew Finch would be experiencing a lot of pain from the continued wet weather. His ever alert eyes scanned the area around the back of the hotel. Two of the seven cars that were parked along the alley last night were gone. He couldn't see any occupants in any of the remaining others. There was a beat up old Ford that had not been there last night. He stopped and studied it for a long moment, there was no one in it…It would have been a good undercover car.

Looking up he quickly scanned the windows and roof tops. Everything looked good. He turned left in the pass way between the narrow buildings. Walking along the tall building gave him a little reprieve from the falling rain. He had seen a pastry shop last night called Delice Pastry on the corner of 3rd Ave and E. 27th street as he was hunting for a place to bed down for the evening. It had looked interesting. He walked between two buildings in a narrow little path and came out on E. 27th Street. Across the street was a church, St. Illuminator's Armenian Apostolic Church. Next to it was what looked like an apartment building that sported three red double doors on each of the entrances. There were Grotesques spaced across the bottom of the second floor windows with fire escapes over each set of doors.

He walked along the street, going under several old trees. He walked on toward 3rd Ave. He eyes scanned the street and the intersection as he approached it. There was a little traffic, a few cabs, one bus and one police car that was pulling away from the curb across the street with it lights flashing. It roared down 3rd Ave. The pastry shop was open. He could see the flashing "Open" sign through the leaves of several tall trees that lined the street. He crossed against the light.

Looking inside before entering he saw there was only one other person in the shop, an elderly looking man. There were three employees behind the counter as he walked in. "Good morning, how can I help you today?" She was a little on the heavy side but she had a beautiful face, deep blue eyes and yellow blond hair with a nice smile. He looked along the glass case. "I'd like a dozen please…"

He watched as she got a box and folded it together. He saw her walk toward him and smile. He knew what Finch liked, he pointed to several different pastries. "I'd like a couple of these, two of these and two of those." Then he looked at her and smiled. "And six more that you would suggest…"

He watched as she expertly put his selections in the box and then added her choices. When finished she folded the lid down, put a piece of tape on the edge and walked down to the end of the counter where the register was. She rang up the purchase and took Reese's money. He left her a tip. She pushed the box across the counter at him.

"Would you like a free refill on the coffee?" She nodded to the cup he had in his hand.

"That would be nice, thank you…" He handed her his cup. She took the cup over to the coffee machines, selected the freshest pot and filled his cup. She walked back toward him. Reaching across the counter she handed him the cup. She took her pen out, wrote her name and number on top of the box, winking at him she turned and walked away. Reese took the box, laughing in his silent way and walked out of the pastry shop, hailing a taxi.

POI

Harold Finch had already tried to do his stretching exercises, but the damp weather made it miserable for him. He carefully sat down in his swivel office chair and breathed a sign of relief. A Number had come in. He had something to concentrate on. He lifted his throbbing arms to the keyboard and let his fingers flow over the keys. He had the Social Security number.

He tracked that to a name; Joan Freeman, late fifties. Up until about three years ago she had been an executive in a clothing manufacture business, making well over two hundred thousand dollars a year, and then she dropped off the grid. He did a search in the Fashion trade papers and magazines. Dozens of articles popped up with full color pictures; he selected several articles and printed them. Reaching over, he started to grab the printed papers when a muscle cramp on his whole right side started at the bottom of his rib cage and crawled upward.

He'd been having small ones all night, waking him up and making him have to get out of bed and walk them off. Even a hot shower had not stopped them. He had finally taken the extra medication that had been prescribed to him for these. He didn't like taking the pills because it made him a little dopey. This one felt like someone had grabbed him with a large vice and was clamping down. He straightened up in the chair immediately, hoping that would stop the cramp, it didn't. He sat straight-backed in the chair. That didn't help. He sucked in a breath and tried to stretch his right side, but that didn't do anything for him either.

As quickly as he could, he got to his feet and walked off down the hall. He had glanced at his watch and saw that he could take another dose of the anti-spasm medication. Turning his wrist to look at his watch sent a spasm from the back of his shoulder, over the top of the shoulder and down his arm. Finch's upper arm muscle became rock hard, his hands curled as the cramps went into his fingers, making them become distorted.

Finch staggered to the spare room that he used here and went into the little bathroom. Using his left hand, he opened the medicine chest and grabbed the bottle. He knew he couldn't get the bottle opened-one handed so he put the cap in his mouth; the spasms tore across his face as he had flexed his jaw. Finch doubled over as the rest of his torso followed suit and the muscles on the left rib cage seized as the right side had. Dropping to the floor in agony, he lost his glasses. He was sweating, panting making small noises as he lay withering on the cold bathroom floor. His body twitched and jerked as one muscle spasm started and another would release.

POI

John Reese had gotten out of the cab two blocks away. The rain was still coming down in a drizzle. He quickened his pace and cut through a side alley that came out across from the Library. Watching for a long moment, he saw nothing out of place and he crossed the street, went to the back of the building and tapped the code to get in. He pushed the door open and went to the service elevator. Pressing the button he heard the old elevator's motor start to lower the lift. It took three and a half minutes for the elevator to come down three floors to the basement. Reese opened the lift cage, slid the inside door slightly open, just enough to get himself and the box in and closed everything up and hit the floor button. The elevator started up. Opening the door and the cage he stepped out. No need to close it. He knew Finch was here the car had been in the garage basement as he had come in.

He walked down the hallway and turned and headed to the desk. "Finch…goodies…?" The smile he wore carried in his voice. He set the box on the desk top. He started to look at the print-out in the printer when he heard a groan.

His head snapped up. "Finch?"

He moved toward the spare room his hand automatically filled with his gun. He brought it up into the ready position, arms against his body, gun just below his chin. He pressed himself against the wall. "Harold?" He called the name out softly, listening. He heard the moan again. Reese brought the gun to firing position and stepped around into the room.

It took all of four seconds for his eyes to sweep the room, assess it and move. The room was clear, Finch was down on the floor in the bathroom. In four strides, John was at the door, sweeping the bathroom visually and with the gun. He saw nothing in the bathroom except a withering Finch.

Holstering the gun he knelt down over Finch, and saw the pill bottle lying with-in arm's reach. It was then that he noticed that Finch's face was distorted; his one hand looked like the fingers were all broken. He reached across Finch and caught up the bottle and looked at the name of the drug…Carbnazepine…He saw that it said something about _'for spasms'_ He looked Finch in the eyes, seeing him try to reach for the bottle.

"Harold…I am going to give two of these to you." The bottle said he could have two and since the cap was still on, Reese figured Harold had not taken any. He saw Harold try and nod. Reese straightened up in the kneeling position and reached for a glass on the sink and turning on the water filled the glass. He shut the water off. Setting the glass on the floor next to him… Then he opened the bottle and shook out two pills, re-capped the pill bottle. He set down the pills and picked up the water glass. Reaching over, he put the two pills in Harold's mouth and lifting his head, he got the water glass to his lips. The back of Finch's head felt hot against his hand.

He could see the torment in his eyes. He saw Harold swallow. Reese laid Finch's head back down. He set the glass back on the sink. He caught Finch's attention with his eyes."I'm going to move you to the bed." He got to his feet, crouched and got his arms under Finch's body and lifted. Cradling him he stood up, just missing the sink. He turned and got him though the bathroom door and to the bed.

Laying Finch down in the center of the small bed he reached down and pulled the comforter that was at the foot of the bed over him. He hoped the warmth would help relieve what was going on with Finch's body. Reaching up he loosened the bow tie at Finch's neck and undid the top couple of buttons of his shirt. Unease was etched across his face.

His eyes scanned Finch's face and saw the pain still there. He was sweating and almost panting. "Be right back." John ran out of the room, coming back in a few seconds with the comforter from his bed. He threw that over Finch, tucking it in against his body. It took a few minutes but Reese noticed the change in Finch's face. The knotted looking muscles were relaxing. A couple minutes later he saw the drugged look come to Harold's eyes.

The pills were starting to take effect.

Reese pulled the covers up on his right side and looked for his right hand. The fingers were still a little oddly spayed apart, but they no longer looked broken. He tucked the covers back down. He saw Harold swallow and lick his lips. And then he realized what was wrong…Finch didn't have his glasses on.

Reese walked back into the bathroom, picked up the pill bottle and Finch's glasses off the floor and got some fresh water. Walking back to the side of the bed, he set the pills and the glass of water down on the bedside very carefully put Finch's glasses on his face.

"Thank you…" His voice just a whisper, Finch blinked a couple times.

"Should I call someone…a doctor?" Reese looked down at the man in the bed. Worry and concern crossed his face as he drew in a sigh and let it out. "Harold…" His voice was soft, he was speaking tightlipped, fear griping at his center. "What can I do for you?"

"No…Nothing…I'll be alright in a little bit…the spasms, are letting up." His eyes tried to focus in on Reese's face. This is why he hated to take this medication. It made it hard to think, to work. He felt exhausted just from the muscle spasms, let alone what the drug was doing to him.

"Want to try some water?" Reese watched as the medication took over and Harold's body began to relax under the comforters.

"No…Tha…yo…u." Then Harold remembered… "Num…Number…ne…w" And with that his eyes closed, a deep sigh lifting his chest.

POI


	2. Chapter 2

Please read and review. Thank you.

POI

Reese reached down under the covers and found Finch's arm and then his wrist. He felt for a pulse, and it was still beating very hard and fast. Sweat rolled off Finch's face. Reese turned and walked back into the bathroom and grabbed a wash cloth. He wet it down, wringing it out he turned and walked back to where Finch lay. Very carefully and gently Reese wiped Finch's forehead and the side of his face. He saw that Finch was beginning to breathe normally and the muscles that had looked like cords in his neck were now back to looking ordinary.

Reese straightened and looked at Finch. He looked exhausted. Reese also knew what the Carbnazepine could do. This was a very powerful drug. Finch would sleep for awhile. Reese again reached under the covers, found Finch's wrist and his fingers finding a strong steady pulse.

Reese walked out of Finch's room and headed past the computer desk grabbing his paper cup he went to the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee. Then he put water on to boil for tea. He got the tea pot that Finch used to steep his loose leaf tea in. He found the tea ball next to the can of loose leaf tea, opened the ball and spooned tea into it. Twisting the cap back on the ball he set it to the side. He turned and walked back out of the kitchen and back to Finch's room, checking on him. He was lying quietly, slack jawed.

Reese stepped closer to him, looking at his face. There was a small sheen of sweat on Harold's forehead and upper lip. Reese took the washcloth and again as gently as he could he wiped the sweat away. When satisfied he turned and headed back to the kitchen area, hearing the whistling of boiling water.

Walking into the kitchen, he saw that his coffee was ready also. He walked to the whistling kettle and removed it from the stove. Moving to the tea pot, he poured boiling water into the pot and let it sit for a couple minutes, heating the pot. He poured that water out of the tea pot into the sink. Putting the tea ball into the tea pot, he poured the still boiling water from the kettle into the pot.

Taking his time he fixed himself another cup of coffee from the fresh pot and then went over and poured a cup of tea for Finch. He added one teaspoon of sugar to the tea. Taking both cups he walked back toward Finch's room. He saw that the lines around Harold's eyes had softened. Setting the tea down, he walked out and went to the desk. He drank a couple sips from the coffee and set it down on the desk, then turned and walked back into Finch's room

He walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at the sleeping man. "Finch…You need to wake up and talk to me…" His voice was soft and even. There was no response. "Mr. Finch you need wake up." Still no response, worry edged into Reese green eyes. Reaching down he gently touched Finch on the shoulder. "Finch…Wake up…" There was no response, not even a fluttering of his eyes. "Finch!" Reese reached down and pulled the comforters down away from Finch's body. He grabbed Harold by both shoulders, carefully trying not too jar him to hard. When he got no response he let go of Harold's shoulder and patted him on the side of the face. "Harold, wake up…" Fear was gripping at his stomach. Finch's eyes finally opened. He looked around, confusion on his face.

A huge sigh escaped from Reese. He rolled his eyes. "Finch...it's me Reese…wake up….I need you to wake up…come on…" He saw Finch's eyes blink, saw them try and focus. He had been afraid the Carbnazepine would do this. Reese kept gently slapping at his cheeks, he wanted him awake.

"What…What are you doing?" Finch tried to slap Reese's hands away. An incensed look crossed his face followed by anger.

Reese dodged them easily. "Finch you need to wake up fully…I don't want to take a chance and have you die on me…Come on wakie… wakie…" The smile went into his eyes as he saw Harold's coordination start to sharpen. He had to be quicker and quicker to avoid Finch slapping away his hands.

"Mr. Reese…please…" Harold's angry voice stopped the assault.

John stood up straight and took a couple steps back from the bed. The befuddled look on Finch's face and the anger in his eyes, made John smile slightly. Reese moved sideways watching Finch track him with his eyes, he knew it was difficult for him to turn his head. "Ok Finch, now that I have your attention…" He saw Finch's eyes narrow with anger, which was ok, anger was good. He knew a lot of it was the drug, but Finch was moving, even though stiffly, he was becoming more alert.

Finch looked around the room. He saw he was lying in bed. He remembered being at the computer. He looked at Reese, a little lost. "What are you doing, leave me alone Mr. Reese…"

"Well…Harold…It's not often I come in here and see you flat out on the floor, twisted like a pretzel." He reached toward the bedside table and took the cup of tea, seeing Finch pull the covers the rest of the way off and slowly move into a sitting position with his feet on the side of the bed. 'What's going on Finch?" He saw that look, that look that was usually followed by _'I am a very private man'_. It didn't come. He waited until Finch was situated on the side of the bed then offered him the tea. "I brought donuts…you should eat something with the Carbnazepine." He saw Finch automatically take the cup offered him and Reese turned and went and got the box. He had the lid flipped back before he offered the box to Finch.

"Thank you but-."

"Finch eat one, even a few bites will help." He saw those eyes look up at him. The Carbnazepine could make a person very short tempered, even violent. He watch as a range of emotions crossed Finch's face, but in the end, his hand reached out and he took a small pastry. He set the box on the bedside table and studied Finch's face for a moment. "Good, now what happened…what's going on?" He watched as Finch chewed the bite he had taken out of the little puff pastry. He watched Finch's eyes. There were sometimes a grayish blue, with a touch of hazel, right now they were a dark bluish grey. He let a sigh escape and he instantly regretted it. Finch knew he was frustrating him. He saw the very minute change in his facial features "Ok…Let me ask this…?" He watched as Finch quit chewing and looked up at him. Reese silenced the frustration that wanted to show. He put the game face on. "Are you going to be alright?"

Finch knew that Reese was worried about him. If it had been the other way around Finch would have been worried. "Yes Mr. Reese…It has been a very long time since I had one of these… episodes. I-."

Reese saw Finch hesitate, he had been about to reveal something. The smirk touched the corner of Reese's lip. "Ok Finch, drink your tea. Finish the pastry, we can talk later…stay awake…I don't want you going back to sleep…" He turned on his heal and walked out of the bed room. "I'll check out the next Number."

Reese didn't wait for a reply. He walked over to the printer, gathered the readout and his paper cup of coffee and went back to the kitchen for a refill. Setting the papers down on the little drain board, he took the coffee pot and started to pour coffee into the paper cup. It looked pitiful. He threw it away and got his dark blue cup down and poured fresh coffee into it. He took a long moment. His eyes focused in on the steam curling from his cup, listening for Finch. Hearing nothing he turned his attention to the printouts. He headed back for the computer room and the swivel chair, sipping the coffee. He sat down reading the stats on their new Number; name, age, work, not working. He set the cup down, shifted the paper and looked at the second page, a picture of the woman.

Reese stood up like he had been shot out of the chair. He knew this woman…This picture was a glamour shot. Her auburn colored hair was nicely styled, framing a smiling face, hazel colored eyes…make-up, lighting…It was her it was Joan from the streets. Joan, who had taken him under her wing, protected him. She taught him how to live on the streets. Where to go for a safe hand out, where to go to sleep safely, where to go to avoid the police…

The last time he had seen Joan was in the warehouse when they were picking up brass shell casings, "good money" She had said she wasn't sure what he had been into before they met and she didn't know what he was doing now, but he knew how to keep things interesting…They had both laughed. John had thanked her for taking care of him when he was on the streets and she had wanted to know who was taking care of him now "Someone new." He looked over his shoulder as Finch slowly came into the room.

"Finch I know this Number…I know Joan." There was concern in his voice. He moved away from the swivel chair as Finch made his way toward the desk. He watched Finch move with trepidation on his face. He couldn't leave Finch in this condition, but he had to go find Joan..

Finch felt as if every muscle had been pushed to its limit. He felt like he was walking in deep sand, his muscles were that tired. He made the desk and instantly set the tea cup down, it felt like it weighed a ton. Finch sat down in the chair carefully. He stared at the computer screens blankly.

"Harold...?" Reese gently laid a hand on his shoulder, suddenly emotion swelled up in his throat, he swallowed it back down. "Are _you_ all right?" his lips barely moved, tenderness shifted through his eyes.

Finch blinked, almost like coming out of a trance. Reaching up he touched his glasses, making a slight sideways eye contact with Reese. "Yes John, I will be alright." He slowly put his hands to the keyboard and typed a couple things. "I…I couldn't find an address for her."

Reese straightened and stepped slightly in front of Finch so he didn't have to twist or turn to look at him. "I know where to find her."

Finch looked up at Reese, seeing the worry in his eyes. "Then go find her." He looked back to the computer screen.

"Finch I-."

"Go Mr. Reese…I will be fine now…" He saw Reese's jaw muscles flex. He took a deep breath and stilled his hands on the keyboard. "I will explain later…but right now we need to find Joan Freeman…"

Reese turned and headed out.

POI


	3. Chapter 3

As always, I don't own them, wish I did. Make no money…Please read and review.

John Reese moved into the day room. It was an old warehouse that had been purchased by a Wall Street trader and his uncle and set up as a homeless shelter. They had worked hard and enlisted some of the cliental. Those who had construction knowledge and could work were enlisted and paid to help strip the inside of warehouse. They built a full kitchen, a day room and bathrooms on the first floor. The other floors were slowly being converted into large sectioned rooms that had cots for sleeping. They were divided into the men's, women's and family units with showers and bathrooms in each section.

Reese scanned the room for Joan. He slowly went around the different tables looking for her. On a rainy day like this the room was full of people. He finally found some one he knew.

He had long gray hair pulled back in a pony tail. He was probably in his late fifties but looked older. His coloring was darker than a suntan showing he was of mixed race. He was dressed in a wool shirt that had seen better days. His pants at one time had been a rust color but now they were a faded reddish almost pink color. He had a long wooden cane at his side and was lying with his head on a backpack.

Reese walked over and sat across from him at the long table. "Dumont, how are you this morning?" his voice was low and soft. He saw the gray head rise up, saw a dark pair of eyes focus on him. There were deep lines etched in a face that had seen better days. With recognition came a toothless smile.

"Johnny boy…you are looking good today…" There was a gravel tone to his voice. He reached a hand out.

John shook hands with him. "Du…have you seen Joan today?" He saw the man think a moment. "Johnny, I haven't…" He looked around the room and then back at John. "In fact, I don't think I saw her yesterday…With the rain and all, she might be holed-up some where?" He chuckled deep down in his chest. "I been here three days straight."

John smiled at him. "Know where she might be?" He had already slipped a twenty into his own hand.

"Well Johnny boy, if I was looking for her I might try down on the underpass on 7 NE."

"The one there next to the old garment factory?" He started to stand up.

"Yeah, that's the one…"

John reached his hand out, transferring the twenty to Du as they shook hands. "Thank you Du, talk to ya later." He moved away from the table and headed for the doors.

Du looked at the palm of his hand and slipped his hand into the pocket on the backpack, laid his head back down and smiled

POI

Finch felt exhausted. He knew part of it was the medication, part of it was that he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep, and then the fact that he had gone through the series of spasms. In the beginning, after the injury, he had had them all the time. The doctors had explained that because of the fusion the nerves in his neck and back were re-growing their pathways and the spasms would eventually go completely away…He was still waiting. He did admit to himself that this had been the most ruthless one to date. Even with the medication, he was still having little twinges. And the neck spasm had caused a headache.

He didn't want to sleep. There was work to do. But the relaxant was making it very hard right at this moment.

His phone beeped. Carefully, he reached out and touched the button. "Yes Mr. Reese?"

"How ya doing, Finch?" There was concern in his voice.

"Quite well Mr. Reese…Do you have Joan in sight?"

Reese could hear the pain in his voice. But he had answered the phone. "No. I checked the Warehouse and they haven't seen her in two days, but the rain may have her holded up in another spot. Any more information?"

"I found a police report from three nights ago. There was a stabbing incident, a man called Waterloo-."

"He is short and thinks he is Napoleon." Reese knew the man.

"He was stabbed four times. He is still in intensive care at Saint Teresa's. The report talks about a witness to the stabbing. It was Joan."

"Did it give a name of the guy wielding the knife?"

"According to the report, Joan says she didn't see who it was, just heard Waterloo scream for help."

Reese could tell from Finch's voice that he was tired and still hurting. "Ok, I am almost near 7NE…I'll contact you after I see if Joan is here or not."

There was a click and the connection was broken. Finch again carefully leaned forward and hit the button on the phone, turning the speaker off. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a few minutes. He tried to relax his neck muscles but it gave him no relief. He opened his eyes and slowly came to his feet. Another cup of tea would be good. Standing, he took the phone headset from the desk and put it on. He turned and went to the kitchen.

POI

Reese moved along a red brick wall. There were trees planted along it and he walked in and out of the rain, catching drips from the tree leaves as he walked along. He was headed for the raised track that in another couple miles would disappear back into the subway tunnels. But this is where it came above ground. There were sections that were paved, but this area here was open lots. There had been old tenement buildings but when the city had tried to extend the subway the ground had been found to be too unsteady for tunneling so they had brought the subway, above ground and taken out the old run-down buildings. Over the years, trees and brush and grasses had reclaimed areas under the elevated subways. John had vague memories of these hiding places, but back then, all he was looking for was a drink and a safe place to hide from his demons. His mind took him back to the first time he had met Joan.

_He had been wandering down an alley when he heard a raised voice He automatically moved toward the raised voice as a moth to a flame._

"_Come on you bitch…Give it up."_

_Reese walked a little further and saw two young men squared off in front of a woman who was holding a garbage bag against her chest. They had her cornered against a wall. And they were wearing the local gang colors. He saw the one closest to him pull out a switchblade knife and snap it open. _

_Reese's protection mode kicked in. Even as drunk as he was, he didn't hesitate. He quickened his pace and walked into them. In less than three seconds, he had the switchblade in hand and both gang members were on the pavement. The guy that had had the blade was moaning with a broken arm. The other one was out cold from a swift upper punch to the jaw. Reese turned toward the woman. He stared at her blankly, teetering a bit. Gesturing toward the two gang members on the ground, he swayed a bit, "They should apologize…" his voice was a soft raspy whisper. He looked down at the gang members, and then turned and moved on._

_Joan in that few seconds had seen a very lost soul. She saw the weight of the world on his face and the pain in his eyes. "Wait…" She saw him stop and turn back toward her. "I haven't seen you before." She sidestepped around the moaning guy with the broken arm and moved toward the tall green eyed stranger. He just stared at her, distrust touching his eyes. She smiled at him. "I want to thank you." She took the garbage bag and moved it so it was inside her long coat. She watched as the stranger moved away from her and half stumbled over to the other side of the alley, closer to a dumpster. She saw his expression change. Under the dirt and grim his face went gray._

_His adrenalin level was dropping suddenly, no food, a lot of whiskey and no sleep. His self-destructive behavior was catching up with him. He put a hand to his head, pressing it hard against his right temple. He hunched over in pain. "Go away…leave me alone…" His eyes scanned the area, looking for a way out._

_There were no sirens, but suddenly two police cars entered the alley, one from each direction._

_He went very still. His eyes taking on a look of malice, he half spun around looking for a way out there wasn't one. _

_She saw the look on the his face and she knew she needed to get him out of there now…She moved toward him, and reaching down she grabbed his arm by the coat and started to walk him back to a get-a-way behind the dumpsters. It was like hitting the end of a rope tied solid. She was almost jerked off her feet... She turned to him, looking up into his eyes. "I'll help you…Trust me..." She saw the split-second decision he made, felt his arm give, and then she was moving him around the back of the dumpster to a narrow window that went into a basement. "Pull the wood back…" She pointed to a solid looking wooden plank, pointing to the upper corner._

_He reached down and pulled the wooden corner just as the police cars came to a screeching halt behind them, on the other side of the dumpster._

_Joan reached behind him and directed him into the small space that had once been a window. "Hurry, slip inside, be quiet." She turned and closed the wooden plank and stepped back. She peered around the dumpster. Looking back toward the police cars as the officers got out and started to scan the area._

_Reese crawled down off the narrow window ledge and dropped to the floor easily. He looked back over his shoulder and saw that she had not come with him. He was in a large empty basement. He stopped and walked back toward the wooden plank he waited and listened. His face pulled down in a frown. Why had she helped him? Didn't she know what a monster he was?…He staggered slightly and put a hand against the wall._

'_Well, well…if it isn't my favorite Bag Lady…What did you do to these boys Joan?"_

_Joan looked at the uniformed officer and smiled. "I found them that way Officer Johnson." She moved out from behind the dumpster. Reaching up, she pushed her chestnut colored hair out of her face. "I heard some fighting and when I stepped from the back of the bin, there they were…" _

_Officer Johnson had been on the Force for 15 years and had known Joan for the last year when she had started haunting the back streets. He had occasionally run into her and she seemed harmless. He had had a feeling she had come from money at some time and he religiously checked the missing report files, but her description had never turned up._

_The other squad car had already called for an ambulance. _

"_The guy broke my arm…I wasn't doing nothing…" Switchblade guy was being help from the ground. His partner was still laid out._

_Johnson looked back at her. "Joan did these guys try and mug you?"  
_

"_No. Honest I found them that way." She smiled and looked at the man with the broken arm._

"_It wasn't her…it was some guy with a beard and scruffy hair. The guy with the broken arm looked at the officers in disgust. "He broke my arm…I-."_

"_Yeah, we know, you didn't do anything…" The second officer leaned him up against the squad car._

_Reese couldn't see what was going on, but he could hear them talking. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled a pint bottle out, uncapped it and took a long swig, capped it and put it back. Looking around, he moved to the corner wall, turned his back to it and slid down to a sitting position. His head hurt, and his hands were shaking again. One more time, he reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the bottle, this time taking a longer draw on it._

_Johnson shook his head. "I'll pull out; tell the wagon to come in on 6th Ave." Johnson turned back to Joan. "Want me to give you a ride to the shelter?" He could tell she was hiding something under her coat but he wasn't going to challenger her._

"_No…I got a place to sleep."_

"_You sure you don't want to go to the shelter?" Johnson stepped closer to her, looking into her hazel colored eyes. "Joan, you'd be safer there…you know that. Let me take you—." He saw the fear come into her eyes. He stepped back, raising his hands in a gesture of resignation. "Alright Joan…just be careful…Ok." He moved to his car, hearing the distant wail of the ambulance. He got in and backed the squad car out._

_Joan saw that no one was looking at her. She moved on down the alley, the way Officer Johnson had pulled out, heading for the street. She hugged her prize possession, a garbage bag with some clothes in it. She wandered out onto the street and across to the other alley where she stood behind another dumpster and waited._

_She waited until all was quiet, and then she walked back down the alley and to the boarded up window. It took her a minute, but she pulled the plank back and looked in. In the dim light she could see the stranger asleep in the corner. She slowly worked her way in the window frame and knowing where the toe hole was, she stepped down quietly into the basement and squatted under the window and waited. She knew this lost soul needed looking after…_


	4. Chapter 4

POI Please read and review

Reese moved to the edge of the tunnel-like overpass. It was dark; it stank and had been his home for awhile when he had been living on the streets. Most important, it was a dry place. There was heavy vegetation growing all over. Some trees had actually taken root at the edges and formed a canopy at the entrance of the overpass as it went back down into the earth. He pushed through the limbs and brush and into the depths of shadows. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness as he went deeper into the cave-like place. He pulled out his pen light and turned it on. He walked several more paces in and then stopped, and looked at a jumbled stack of cardboard propped against the wall.

"Joan?" His soft voice actually echoed in the enclosure. He waited and listened. He sensed movement farther back. He turned the light toward the sound.

"She ain't here John…" Several sets of eyes blinked at him. One set was at his height, the rest were knee level or lower. The eyes moved forward into the light, a man and his dogs. He was rail thin, blond long hair hung around a face with deep vacant blue eyes. He was as tall as John and he walked with a very pronounced limp of his right leg. There were six dogs that shadowed him, varying in size from medium to a small little poodle. The rest of the dogs remained around their master; the poodle sighted in on John and ran to him with a wagging tail.

"Hey Sadie…" John bent and scooped the dog up. She was snow white and well groomed. She wiggled and made small noises deep in her throat as Reese gently scratched behind her long silky ear. He looked from the dog to its owner. "Hi Jacob…Have you seen Joan?"

"No man, she was here yesterday early, but she was really nervous and she left." One of the larger of the dogs stepped forward, head and tail up. Moving two stiff legged steps, it growled low, deep in its throat. The rest of the pack had been milling around, sniffing, looking around all became still as stones, heads up and alert, looking past John.

Reese and Jacob reacted the same way. They both disappeared into the depths of the dark tunnel, the dogs following them, all moving silently, like ghosts.

A gun came through the trees and brush, followed by an arm in a suit jacket and then a head followed and a body. He was about 5'9", heavy set with a round face and jowls that drooped down. His eyes swept the darkness as he moved the gun back and forth. He was followed by another man, who was of medium height and weight, balding. He brought his weapon up into a ready position.

"Hector, I told you. We're going to need a flashlight." Jowls, whispered over his shoulder to the other man.

"There is one in the van. Go get it." Hector was looking around.

"You go get it…" Jowls half turned toward the other man.

Reese stepped out of the shadows and sent a fist into the side of the head of Jowls, stripping his weapon from him. In one fluid motion, he stepped behind Jowls as the man dropped to the dirt floor and struck the second man square in the center of the chest with a short punch. He saw the man's surprised eyes fly open along with his mouth as air was expelled out of his lungs and he went down. Reese's left hand snaked out and dropping his hand down, he grabbed the top of the gun, jamming the flesh between his thumb and index finger down between the hammer and the firing pin of the 38 Special. He stopped the gun from going off. He twisted his hand and with a quick chop of his right hand he popped the gun out of the other mans grasp. The 38 was still attached at his flesh between the hammer and the pin.

Reese froze He heard a round being chambered into a rifle. He very carefully looked back over his shoulder. His tight lips pulled back in a smile, it went to his eyes.

Jacob stepped out of the darkness with an assault rifle. He held it in the ready position, tight against his shoulder and chest, his cheek tucked against the side of the gun. It wasn't aimed at John it was aimed at the two men on the ground. The dog that had growled was at his right knee, no sound, but his muzzle was pulled back in a fang showing snarl

Reese knew ex-military when he saw it in motion. He saw those dark blue eyes had come alive. "Stand down soldier." Reese's voice carried a commanding tone.

"Insurgents, Staff Sergeant…" He kept the AK-47 aimed at the two downed men.

"It's all right Jacob." His voice went back to its normal softness. Reese knew Jacob had been a Marine. "Stand down…"

"Aye-aye Staff Sergeant…" He lowered the weapon. The dog at his side lowered its muzzle; lips still curled back. Its dark eyes were still focused on the man sitting on the ground.

Reese turned his attention back to the two men. Hector, the one he had hit in the center of the chest was slowly recovering his breath. The pained expression on his face was starting to ease. Reese watched as he sucked in a deep breath, holding both hands to the middle of his body, leaning forward he coughed.

Reese sensed movement from behind. Glancing back he saw that the dog had moved forward a couple steps, its lips pulled back further a low growl issued from deep in its throat. A smile moved all the way into John's eyes. "Jacob, advance your K9..." Keeping his attention split between the two men on the ground and the dog, Reese saw Jacob step forward and give the dog a hand signal. As he stepped forward, the other four dogs advanced behind him. Reese sidestepped to give the dog room and it advanced toward the man sitting on the ground.

Hector's eyes widened and stared at the snarling dog.

Reese turned his attention back to Hector. "I don't know if you have ever been attacked by a military trained dog or not, but I can tell you from experience they go for the throat and face first." He saw the man look from the dog to him and then back at the dog. "It can be really gruesome." He cocked an eyebrow and allowed that small smile to curl the edge of his lips. "All I want to know is why? Why are you looking for Joan?" He watched as the man tried to quietly take in a breath but it still wasn't easy for him.

Hector sucked in another breath and looked back at the man leaning toward him. He saw the cold hard stare. "She stole something from our boss, he wants it back."

"Who's your boss?" Reese saw Jowls was starting to stir. He shifted his intense gaze back to Hector.

Hector licked his lips, nervously looking between the dog, his partner and the man leaning in his face. "He'll kill me if I talk."

"That will be kinder then what I am going to do..." Reese's voice was low and raspy.

Hector saw a look cross his captor's face that made his blood run cold. "Alverez…Miguel Alverez."

"Mexican Mafia…" Frowning, Reese straightened up and stepped back. He heard the low growl coming from the dog. "Soldier, retrieve your K9…" Reese didn't look sideways. He was watching Hector and Jowls. He heard movement and knew the dog had been silently commanded back. Reese looked down at the two men. "Tell Alverez to leave Joan alone." He shifted his eyes for a quick second. "I'll get what ever she took and deliver it back to him." He gestured to Jowls on the ground. "Get your friend there and get out. And it's just a thought…but I would suggest you don't ever come back here again." His tone was very matter-of-fact.

Hector thought about asking this crazy guy who he was, but survival instinct kicked in. He scrambled to his knees, grabbing at Jowls. He got to his feet and dragged Jowls out of the enclosure.

Reese turned and looked at Jacob, seeing he was standing with the AK-47 in a very relaxed position. The dogs were still gathered around Jacob. The lead dog was still looking toward the entrance but its ears and tail were lowered. Sadie was behind the rest of the pack, looking expectantly at Reese. He smiled, the dog came forward and Reese once again bent and picked her up along with the second gun. Reese held the hand out with the two handguns to Jacob. "Need some extra bargaining power?"

Jacob looked at Reese and smiled. "Couple places I could leave them for safety back in the back…Never can tell when you might need extra fire power." He reached out and took the two guns. "You need help with this…?"

"No… I got it. I just need to find Joan." Now that Reese's hand was free he scratched Sadie behind the ear. He noticed that the dogs were well cared for and in good shape. Jacob was looking a little thin. He knew that Jacob would care for the animals needs before his own. Reese mentally made a note to make a couple extra stops on this side of town once a week.

"Try the factory… I've seen her go over that way a couple times." Jacob saw that Reese was thinking…

Reese put Sadie back on the dirt floor and nodded to Jacob. "Stay dry…" With that, he turned and walked out of the enclosure. He carefully scanned the area, looking for Jowls and Hector. He could see where the drag marks turned into two sets of foot prints and they went to a set of tire tracks. Reaching up, he pressed the ear bug in his right ear. "Finch, you there?"

He felt the tension start to rise as Finch did not immediately answer. "Haro-."

"Yes, Mr. Reese."

Reese blinked, drawing breath. "Do we know who Joan saw knife Napoleon? Miguel Alverez is after her." There were several minutes of silence. John listened intently to the silence; he knew Finch was trying to control his breathing and the pain.

"No Mr. Reese, there were no video cameras in that alley and too many people coming and going in the area to pinpoint a single person."

As he was listening to Finch he was walking toward the factory. His mind's eye again taking him back to that that first meeting with Joan and the basement.

_He slowly surfaced from the drunken stupor. He'd been having dreams his demons had been taunting him. He waved away a ghost and opened his eyes. It was dim. There was a little light coming from a window across the way. He was in a corner, sitting cross legged. He lifted his head up and stared blearily around the room. He was in a room how did he get there?_

_Then he heard the breathing and he came up out of the sitting position straight up the wall, going into a defense position, left foot forward, hands at the ready. He tried to see what or who was crouched down under the boarded up window, down on the floor. But, his vision was still just blurry enough that he couldn't make it out. Half his mind was trying to convince him it was a hallucination while the other half was telling him it was real. He just wasn't sure any more…he had no one_

"_I'm Joan…Remember?" She stood up and stepped forward one step, into the little light that streamed down from the boarded window. "What's you name?" She looked at him and saw a lost look come into those green eyes. He looked like he'd aged ten years in front of her. "I see your shirt is torn." While she had been waiting for her stranger to wake up she had carefully and quietly gone through the garbage bag. She had found socks for a child, some children's underwear and a very large mans shirt. Looking at her thin stranger she knew it would be way too large for him, but he could put it over the torn shirt. She held it out, looking at his eyes, seeing the pain etched there. "Here…it's ok…take it, you'll need it." She took a couple more steps. She stretched her arm out, keeping her attention on his eyes. She was seeing so many emotions. They flitted across his face as fast as his thoughts could go: apprehension, trepidation, concern, fear, and finally the lost look came back._

_She watched as his right hand slowly reached out. He took the shirt, their fingers touched. She saw his eyes lighten, just a shade. There was just a hint of a smile that touched one corner of his mustache._

_Reese looked at her hand touching his, and he felt something, something he had not experienced in a very long time, the kindness of a touch. He blinked his eyes. "John…my name is John…"_

"Mr. Reese…John…are you there?'

Reese shook himself as the memory faded and he heard Finch's voice in his ear. "Yes, Finch…sorry I got distracted."

_POI_


	5. Chapter 5

Reese cast a glance around the area, checking for problems. He saw none and focused his attention back in on Finch's conversation.

"As I was saying, I talked to Detective Carter and she said that there was a large amount of money and drugs involved in the stabbing according to street sources."

"Did she give any leads?" He turned the corner and walked down the street toward the second set of factories in the area. He could hear the tightness in Finch's voice.

"No. All she said was that it was a fairly large amount of both involved."

"Ok, I am at the factory." He reached up and touched the ear bud. Silence filled his ear but not his mind. It had to be the rain, all this rain was depressing. He shook his mind free of the thoughts that wanted to creep into his thoughts of…_'No, let it go…'_

He spoke it to no one, casting an angry look at the sky "Will this rain ever end?"

Reese moved across the street to a chain-link fence that surrounded the factory. He walked along it until he found a spot of broken chain-link and slipped through. Heading toward the abandoned building, he paid attention to the ground as he walked across the open field. Before he got to the paved area, he saw several sets of foot prints. But he wasn't sure if Joan's were one of them. He moved to the far corner of the building. The front half of the three story building was made of red brick. It had held the offices for the warehouse. The warehouse itself was heavy corrugated metal. There were several sliding doors that would allow Semi trucks and trailers in. There were a couple side doors that were just regular old plain doors and they had been easily broken into.

Reese moved to the door. He was keyed up and ready as he quietly opened it and slipped into the small opening. He stepped to the side of the door and let his eyes adjust to the dimness. He could hear water steadily dripping, echoing in the large open warehouse, from the leaks in the roof. He could see at the far end, the driest end, that a barrel had been set up as a burning barrel, its flames flickered across the acre of open space. There were five people gathered around it.

He didn't have a lot of cover so; he walked openly across the wet cement floor. He watched their faces as they spotted him moving toward them. He studied their reaction it was to move to the opposite side of the barrel and band together. He didn't know them, all men.

He continued to walk up to them carefully keeping his hands out of his pockets. When he got ten feet away he stopped, and gave them a long look. Four of the five were bearded and looked pretty dry; the fifth had short dark hair, was somewhat clean-shaven and was wet. He looked like he had been out foraging.

"I am looking for Joan. I am a friend of hers…have you seen her?" He watched their expressions. "I checked the Warehouse Shelter and the cave; Jacob said he thought maybe she was here?" He saw a reaction from the man in the middle.

"You a cop?" The man in the middle spoke first, his tone aggressive.

"No…Like I said, I am a friend." Reese watched all of them.

"Haven't seen her," The man's brown eyes narrowed. "I know you…but you're different." He studied him for long minute. "Yeah…you're… John." He smiled and tapped the guy to his left. " 'Member him Charlie? He followed her around for a while." He smiled again, looking back at Reese. "Been awhile."

Reese let a small sad smile flash across his face, then it went back to neutral.

"Naw Sid, that ain't him." Charlie's voice was a whine. He shuffled his feet and moved a little. "That guy was smaller." Charlie pulled a bottle out, uncapped it and took a drink. He passed it to Sid who took it and drank, and then passed it to the other guy on his right.

Reese didn't say anything. He looked at the five men, nodded then turned and headed for the offices. He listened to see if they would follow but they didn't. Reese went to the center door. It was hanging on a single hinge and he stepped through it. Once again pulling his pen light out, he turned it on flashed it around the dark offices. He went through all fourteen offices, finding one homeless family, three young boys lighting up and two other junkies, but no Joan. He left the building by one of the front doors and stood outside for a long moment. The rain was now more mist than drops.

He scanned the area, looking perplexed. "Where are you hiding?" He shook his shoulders in his coat, flipped his collar back up and headed toward where he had parked the car. Reaching up he pressed the ear bud.

"Yes Mr. Reese."

'I'm coming in. I will bring lunch if you want." He glanced at his watch, it had been four hours. Reese knew the medication was going to start to ware off. He could hear the difference in Finch's voice.

"Thank you Mr. Reese, but I don't feel much like eating." Finch's voice carried an exhausted tone to it.

"Ok Finch." He reached up and touched the ear bud. "Chinese it is." A smirk touched his lips. He walked on, staring out at the misting rain falling from the low gray clouds. He let his eyes scan the area over. Where was she? If Carters source was right, Joan was carrying a lot of cash and drugs with her. She was in trouble. Reese had to find her. He felt very protective of her. She had showed a kindness to him that he had almost forgotten existed. And she had asked nothing in return. She had been a very thin line connecting him to life. She hadn't judged him, didn't ask prying questions. She had accepted him when he couldn't accept himself.

He got to the car, opened it and got in. Starting the engine, he drove off slowly. Taking several different streets he continued to watch for her. He dropped by the restaurant and bought Finch's favorite, getting chopsticks. He ordered stir fry vegetables for himself.

He arrived at the alley for the Library and pressed the remote to raise the garage door. Closing it as soon as he was inside, he got out and took off his long coat, leaving it hanging on a nail as he walked to the service elevator. He saw that it was up on what he assumed was the fifth floor. Odd, Finch knew he was coming. He should have sent it down he usually did. He had the Chinese food in his right hand.

He rang the bell and waited. Nothing happened, and then he heard the 'door' bell meaning that the elevator door and the cage door were both open on whatever floor it was on. It would not come down when called unless both doors were closed. The first bell should have alerted Finch.

He pressed the bell again and heard the same thing. Reaching up he touched the ear bud. "Finch…?" He waited half a minute, worry crossing his face. "Finch…Harold, answer me!"

Reese spun on his heel and headed for the stairs. He jerked the door open and took the stairs three at a time. "Finch?" he yelled half-way up. He set the food down at the fifth floor door and slowly opened the door, gun in hand. He had been the last one down the elevator. It should have been on the ground floor.

Moving into the small hallway he listened for a long minute. There were no sounds except the infernal rain hitting against the windows. He knew that if there was someone else in here, he had made them aware he was coming up the stairs. He moved down the hallway to the T that split off and went either left or right. To the right would take him to the computer desk and their HQ. He glanced left at the T and saw nothing out of place, just row upon rows of books. He glanced right and saw Harold, sitting in the chair and his upper torso sprawled across the desk. Reese advanced, his gun still drawn. Finch's face was turned away from him. Reese, keeping everything in view, advanced to the desk. He looked down the left hand hallway just past the desk and saw no motion. What he did hear was Finch snoring.

He holstered his gun and stood staring at Finch's sleeping form. Reaching up he wiped sweat away from his face. He knew what sleeping in that position would do to Finch. More then once he had caught him sleeping at the desk after a long night. He had watched as Finch would slowly get to his feet with pain written all over every movement. Stepping around the sleeping Finch, John watched the man as he slept. There was a tranquil look, he was relaxed in his slumber.

Reese went to Finch's room, seeing the pill bottle still sitting right where he had left it. He walked back to the sleeping Finch. Reese looked out over the desk and looked at the rain that was hitting the windows. He drew a deep sigh. He would leave the sleeping Finch alone.

Going back to the stairs, he retrieved the food. Taking it into the small kitchen, he put Finch's in the refrigerator. He brewed some coffee. Filling his cup, he took his container of stir fry and walked back to the desk and the sleeping Finch. He would get something to eat, get some coffee and then head back out looking for Joan.

Drawing the extra chair using his foot to guide it next to the desk, he set the container and his coffee down. He walked past the desk, took the left hand hallway and walked down the rows of book glancing at the titles as he went. He stopped at one. Reaching up, he pulled it down. It was about three inches thick, The History of PI by Petr Beckman. He glanced at it; the back cover said it was a book about the history of mathematics. He turned and headed back with the book to the desk and the chair.

POI

Finch woke himself from snoring too loudly. He opened his eyes and blinked. There was a fuzzy dark object not too far from his face. He slowly straightened up, pulled his glasses to him and put them on. The fuzzy object had been Mr. Reese's shoes. He looked from the shoes, up the dark trousers, to a book with the PI symbol on it. He could see just the top of Reese's hair over the book. On the desk, within arms reach of Reese there was a takeout container, with chopsticks poking out, and a coffee cup.

"Feeling better Mr. Finch?" Reese's soft voice came as he lowered the book and looked at Finch. There was just that slightly amused look touching his lips. He watched as Harold gave him a long disbelieving look. He remained silent, but did drop his feet off the desk when Finch indicated with a glance that he wanted them gone. Reese saw that Finch's color was better. The pinched look around his eyes was gone. He was still moving very cautiously. Reese closed the book and came to his feet. He gathered the coffee cup and the takeout container and headed for the little kitchen area. "I got the Lo Mein noodles that you like." He stopped and turned and looked at Finch. "Can I heat it up for you?"

Finch nodded. He looked at the computer screens and saw that he had been asleep for just over an hour. He actually felt rested. He carefully got up out of the chair. His body was stiff and sore but there were no spasms. He headed for his room and the bathroom.

When Finch came back, he found Mr. Reese standing looking out at the rain that was still falling. On the desk at his chair was a takeout container and what looked like a cup of his Sencha Green tea. "Thank you Mr. Reese…" He sat down and looked over at Reese's profile. "Any luck with finding Joan?" Had he not been looking at him he wouldn't have caught the slight move. It was as if Reese had been stuck.

"No…No luck…I tried all the places she normally goes." His voice was tight sounding. He turned his head and looked at Finch. "Is there a way to search for her? If she were to walk past a camera…could 'the Machine' recognize her?" He looked back out at the rain.

Finch was truly surprised by the depth of concern he saw in those green eyes. "I have already set an alert up for her, but we don't have a current picture. The pictures we have of her are all several years old."

Reese drew in a deep breath and let it out. "I never asked her why she was on the streets." His soft voice was just above a whisper.

Finch had picked up his tea and took a sip. Mr. Reese had brewed it perfectly, boiling it. It was strong. "Well I am not sure, but I may have found some information on the reason." He saw Reese turn and step toward the desk and the computer. He had his attention. "It's a little obscure, but I found on that the night of the Fall Gala on September 2008 the Trade papers reported that the Gala was a huge success. The show was going to profit up- and-coming dress designer Marcus Holinger. Joan was credited with discovering him and using her influence in the garment industry to get him the exclusive show. I found a police report with her name connected to it on the next day. Marcus, who was ten years younger than Joan, was found dead in her penthouse. There was a young woman found with him, an apparent overdose. They of course suspected Joan, but she had a solid alibi. Less them a month from that date, Joan dropped out of sight. There was an article about her taking a leave of absence from her company, and then it looks like she just went off the grid. I think that's when she started hiding." He looked up at Mr. Reese.

What Finch saw in John's face made him straighten in his chair slightly. There was that look he had only seen a couple times. It was the look that had haunted Reese's eyes for the first few weeks he had come to work for him.

"I should have helped her." His voice was full of sorrow, sadness slipping into his green eyes.

"Mr. Reese…?" Finch tried to break the spiral John was heading for. He stood straight up out of his chair, raising his voice. "Mr. Reese!" He watched as Reese came back, the old Reese fading into the dark memories of before. "You can help her now…Do what you do best…Find her… protect her."

POI


	6. Chapter 6

Reese left the Library on foot. His memories of when he had been on the streets of New York wandering aimlessly drunk were small bits and pieces that would come back to him. Sometimes they had been easy memories that slipped in, other times it was as a fleeting flash that would stop him in his tracks. He been off the streets now so that the memories were distant, sometimes dream like, another life time ago. He needed to put his mind set back to that time. It didn't take long to do it. The rain was still falling.

He caught the subway and headed back toward Central Park and the Garment District. It was late afternoon early evening and the subway cars were still crowded. When he had been on the street, he rarely rode the subway when it was crowded. He had avoided crowds back than. He still didn't like it but it was better and faster then the bus, and he had rarely rode the bus back then. He'd left the car on purpose; he needed and wanted to stay in the 'street' mind set.

He caught the red line riding to 34th street and 8th Ave. He emerged from the subway and headed down toward Pen station. There were good hiding places there. John flipped the collar on his long coat up and moved in and out of the late afternoon traffic. Most of the pedestrians were leaving their jobs and heading for home. The streets were crowed with cars, taxies and a few delivery trucks.

He put his mind to work. Where would he go if he wanted to hide? He let his mind direct his feet. He found himself in a narrow tree lined back entrance to several restaurants. He realized that the sun was almost set. He'd been walking for about a half an hour. Reese stopped and looked at the narrow like alley. Three of the restaurants had back entrances on this side. Slowly he started down it. The different smells in the alley triggered the memories. Italian, Armenian and a burger shop, all spaced within the block. He remembered the spot. Walking about half way down the littered alley he saw the little wooden fence that was a back entrance for the apartment complex on the opposite side from the restaurants. He walked over to the fence, pushed two of the wooden slats away from each other and bending down he slipped into the little court yard. From there he went about twenty steps going to the back door of the apartment corridor.

John glanced down the narrow hall. There were two boys playing on the floor, the door to their apartment was open. John walked toward the kids, seeing the older of the two look at him. The boy had blue eyes and dark hair and two of his front teeth were missing. His blond haired playmate quit playing and turned his face toward what his bother was looking at.

John knew they had to be brothers, same set of blue eyes. He smiled and stepped around them. Glancing in the open apartment he saw that it was clean and neat looking. A Blond woman was standing at a stove cooking. John stepped on past the boys, smiling down at them as he walked on down the hall. He came to the stairway and headed up. Three flights up and he walked down to the end of the hall and went to the short set of stairs that would give him access to the roof top.

Reese opened the door to the roof top and rain pelted at him. He drew a sigh and cast a glance at the gray skies. The lights from the city gave him enough illumination to see. Moving onto the roof top he walked/splashed his way over to what looked like a pigeon coop that had been blocked in with all kinds of scraps of wood. The roof was solid with shingles. He went to the far side and looked at the door, it hung open. He stepped around and pulling the pen light out, once again he clicked it on. Looking inside, it was about ten by ten. Someone had been here, but not recently. He closed the door and turned and headed back across the roof, his mood darkening with the night. Heading back down, he went out the front door; you didn't need to have a key or be buzzed in, to go out. The street, 39th was vacant. Between the rain and the darkness he was the only one out. He moved toward 9th Ave, again letting his mind tell his feet where to head.

It took him a few minutes to walk the distance but he remembered where the entrance was to get in. It had been a small hotel that had gotten run down and finally closed. There were notices that it was scheduled for a demolition but still hadn't happened. He found the window and slipped through it. He stilled his body as voices came to him.

"I'm telling you I saw her come in here. She was lugging that silver bag; it's got to be her and the goods." A door slammed. Beams of light bobbed around in the outer hall.

Reese drew his gun and cat footed quietly to the doorway. Stealthily he took a glance around the door jam and down the hall.

There were four of them, two on each side of the hall, all Hispanic. One would open the door; the other one would search the room. They were on the sixth door, the one to the right and as they opened the door something crashed.

"Bitch!" The guy going through the door leaped back as a bottle bounced off his shoulder. The other three launched and rushed into the room.

Reese moved, going down the hall as the guy who had been hit with the bottle was standing, with his back to him, rubbing his arm and shoulder. Reese grabbed him, pulled him backwards, spun him around and using a short hard chop, dropped him to he floor.

Reese stepped over the prone body and looked in the room. Two beams of light cut through the darkness. They were standing in a half circle, against the far corner. There was a candle lit on the floor, casting light up onto Joan, there was blood on her face. She was staring at them defiantly.

"Where is it?" The guy in the middle took a step toward her and raised his fist, swinging his arms down in a wide arch.

John had a clear shot. He put a bullet in the guys left knee, three more shots rang out in the room. John moved to stand over the three as they lay writhing in pain on the floor, each holding a bleeding leg. He moved toward them, kicking a gun away from the guy on the far right.

John bent and retrieved one of the flash lights. He stepped closer to Joan, who was half sitting, half crouched on the floor. He looked into her brown eyes; half a smile touched his lips, it went into his eyes. "They should apologize." He saw her look at him and saw recognition come to her face. He stepped closer, offering his hand to her to help her up.

Joan saw it was John and started to smile. She took the offered hand and got to her feet. She glanced down at the three on the floor. She remembered the last shoot out he had been involved in. As she looked back up at him she started to say something, her face changed to fear.

John saw the change in her face and knew something was happening behind him. He spun around, blocking her body with his.

The guy in the hall had gotten up and staggered in, gun in hand. He had raised it and aimed it at John's back. As John had spun around, he used his left hand that he had helped Joan up with to put her at his back, holding her there, protecting her. His right hand extended, the gun pointing at the target his eyes saw and pulled the trigger.

Two shots rang out as one. John's was deadly accurate.

The shooter in the doorway dropped the gun and grabbed for his chest as he fell to the floor dead.

John his eyes on the dead man and the other three on the floor spoke to Joan. "Are you alright, are you hurt?" He looked over his shoulder at her; the blood on her face came from the corner of her lip.

"I'm Ok…"She peered around John to the body on the floor, her eyes were wide, she glanced back at the three on the floor all hugging their knees.

"We need to move I need to get you to a safe house." His left hand still held her arm; gently he tried to direct her toward the doorway.

"No…I can't go…" John stilled the urge to just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and walk out. He checked the three squirming in pain on the floor and looked back at her, his hand still on her arm. "Joan, we need to get away from here, now." He used his softest voice, giving her his full attention.

"No." She twisted from his hand, stepping back, giving him a defiant look.

"Why?" He didn't reach for her. He saw the defiant look slip from her face. He heard police sirens in the distance. She had a moment where she looked confused.

"I am meeting some one here." A coy look came to her face.

Reese smiled. "Joan, the only people _you_ are going to meet are the police in a few minutes. I know you found money and drugs…" He saw her expression change, he knew he was right, she had them. "Grab your find and we need to get out of here…now." He had started looking around her, looking for the stash. It was then that he noticed that she looked heavier under her long coat, she had it on her. He extended his left hand again, offering his hand to her. "Come on, we need to leave before the police get here."

She reached up with a left hand and tucked her uncombed hair back behind her ear. Smiling at him she reached out and took his hand. "All right…"

John holster his gun, taking her hand in his left he reached up with his right hand and touched the ear bud.

"Yes Mr. Reese?" Finch had been tracking him from his cell phone.

"I need a car…fifth Ave…"

"Make it Sixth and 39th . Most of the squad cars are coming from the opposite direction; you have about three minutes to exit the building and head in that direction. I have already dispatched a car." There was a slight hesitation. "You found Joan?"

"Yes." Reese directed Joan past the dead guy in the hall and to the window and helped her through it, then slipped through the window himself. Taking her arm again he led her toward the direction they needed to go.

"They said shots fired, is medical attention needed?"

"No…I will take her to the Terrace Apartment."

"That's fine John." Finch was looking at the small red blip as it moved along the street over lay on the second screen. He saw the first of the squad cars arrive in the alley, vie the intersection camera on the right hand screen, John's red blip was moving away from them, he picked up the two people walking quickly in the rain headed across Fourth Ave. from the intersection camera at 83rd and 4th about three hundred feet away, they were just two moving shapes, but they matched the red blip.

John hesitated at the next two streets as they walked on; checking for flashing lights and saw none. "How long before for the car gets here?" They made Sixth and 39th and he found a place to hide in.

"Less than three minutes, I dispatched a Town Car, it was faster."

John looked down at Joan, seeing her curious expression.

Joan laid her left hand over the top of his, giving him a sad look. "John, how long have you been hearing voices?" Genuine concern filled her eyes.

Reese smiled, his whole face lit up and he chuckled, and it went into an actual laugh. He heard Finch say something but he was laughing and couldn't understand him. He had a hard time trying to stop the laughter; tears were starting to form in his eyes, he was laughing so hard. It took him a couple minutes but he got control again. And he did something he had not done in a very, very long time. He leaned in toward Joan and gave her a gentle hug, feeling the money and drugs in her coat. He straightened up and stepped back, feeling something very strange coming over him. He had not laughed like that in years and it had been a very long time since _he_ had hugged someone.

He saw a town car making the corner and he smiled at Joan, seeing the questioning/apprehensive look on her face. "Our ride is here, get in and I will explain the voices."

"Mr. Reese…" There was concern in Finch's voice.

"It's alright. I won't blow your cover…" The chuckle came again as he stepped out and hailed the Town Car.


	7. Chapter 7

Please read and review

Reese found that the driver of the Town Car already knew where he was to take his passengers. It would take about a half hour drive to get there. Joan had reached over and took his left hand, looking at him with interest in her eyes. He smiled at her. "We'll talk when we get to the apartment…OK?" She nodded and he watched her as they moved in and out of traffic. If it had been one of Finch's, drivers they could have talked freely, but this was a rented ride. Letting go of her hand, he reached into his inside pocket and took a handkerchief out. Taking a bottle of water from the little refrigerator between the front seats he wet the cloth. "Joan?" She turned toward him and he cleaned her face of the smeared blood. She smiled at him, and when he finished, she turned her head and looked out the window again. Her hand remained on his thigh. He tucked the handkerchief away and laid his hand back over hers. He watched Joan as she watched the shops, buildings and streets go by. He noted that she had several different reactions to places.

They passed Cerio's, a signature designer store that was fairly new. He saw her lean forward, looking at the dressed dummies in the huge window. And then they were heading toward Central Park, passing the Hilton Hotel. He saw her glanced away from that building and her hand tightened under his slightly. At 54th and 6th passing the fountain she smiled at the round display of water. The next landmark they passed was the Jekyll and Hyde Club, and then they were almost to Central Park.

"Sir, do you wish me to go through the park?" The driver looked in the rearview mirror at Reese.

"No, cut over and go around."

Joan flexed her hand under his.

Reese looked over at her.

"Could we go through the park?" Her voice was a soft whisper. There was pain in her eyes.

Reese didn't look at the driver. He kept his eyes on Joan, seeing her face lit by the street lights. "Driver, go ahead and go through the park." He leaned in a little toward Joan, looking at her in the dimness of the car. "Are you alright?" There was concern on his face and in his voice.

She didn't look at him but she nodded.

He settled back in the seat and looked out the other side for a long minute; they were entering Central Park on Center Drive. As the park went by, he had vague flashbacks of wandering drunken through the park. He was always amazed that he could turn his mind off and on; he had spent a lot of long hours, training to learn the ability, learning to react and respond without thinking. It was a trait he had excelled at, the ability to turn the monster on and off. He shook himself mentally to stop the thoughts.

They rode through the park quietly. Turning left on the street as they exited the park, they went down to Central Park West and made another left. The Town Car pulled up to the curb and the apartment doorman hurried to open the car door for them.

Reese got out first and helped Joan out of the car. He noted that she held onto his arm as they entered the apartment building. The doorman nodded to Reese, giving a hard look at Joan and her clothing.

Brent, the night clerk also watched them walk in. His eyes lingered on the woman's messy hair, dirty long blue jacket, the filthy tennis shoes she was wearing, and his lips curl in disgust. Then he looked back up and saw the coldest pair of green eyes looking back at him. Mr. Rooney's face issued a warning, and Brent had been in this business long enough to know how to handle the situation. He smiled. "Good Evening Mr. Rooney, haven't seen you in awhile." This tenant occasionally brought some good looking women in at all hours and even a couple men, but this woman looked like she belonged on the street.

John nodded. Most of the time when he showed up here, he came in a back entrance he had found and no one knew he was on site. A couple times he had brought people he needed to hide. He walked Joan over to the elevator and pushed the button. The door opened and John directed Joan into the brightly lit wood-lined elevator. He gave Brent a long hard look as the door closed.

Pressing Penthouse, John punched the code in for access. He noticed that Joan kept her head down as they rode up. She was leaning heavier on his arm. The door opened and they stepped into the private little alcove. He walked her to the door, pressed the access code of the door and walked in, flipping the lights on as he entered. John moved her toward the couch, but she let go of his arm and walked to one of the two wooden chairs sitting on either side of a small table toward the far side of the room

The room was split into three sections, living room, kitchen, and a smaller area with a dark mahogany desk that was a little office area. Several computer screens sat on the desk, all set up so they faced the ceiling to floor window that looked out over Central Park. The entrance to the bedroom was over toward the little office area.

John followed her to the chair and pulled the other chair up close to her as she sat down. Something in her body language changed his mind. He didn't sit yet. He squatted down in front of her instead. He reached out and took her hand in his. "Would you like something to drink…some water or-." His eyes studied her face.

Joan shook her head, looking at John.

He saw tears form in her eyes but she blinked them back. "Joan, what's wrong?" He studied her face, her body language. Something was going on and he didn't understand.

She turned her head away and pulling her hand away from his, she laid it in her lap. She took in the view out the ceiling to floor window.

He saw the barrier go up. He had seen it several times when they were on the streets together. She could be a very stubborn woman. He remained crouched in front of her, the intensity of his feelings showing on his face. "You know if it hadn't been for you watching over me I would not have lasted on the streets…" He looked away from her. He felt the emotions well up. He let a slow breath out and closed his eyes for a moment. He remembered a line from a song_…'the hurt doesn't show but the pain still grows'_. Opening his eyes, he turned his head to watch her.

She was still looking out the window at the park. "You already thanked me for that John." Her voice wavered a little. She turned her head and looked at him with deep set pain in them. Then she turned away and looked back out the window. "You would have survived. That's what you are, that's what you do; _you_ are a survivor."

He swallowed. "I was taught to survive." He looked away. "I was taught a lot of things…" His voice was soft, carrying a note of emotion to it.

She reached her hand back out, and without looking at him she put her hand over his. She let out a sigh. "I know you John. I know the man you really are."

As her hand touched his, he shifted his gaze from the side of her face down to her arm and then to her hand covering his. He started to say something; but the words froze in his mouth.

Her hand had fresh blood running down over her fingers.

"Joan you're hurt…!" He glanced up at her face and saw she was still looking out the window. Reaching out, he gently touched her chin and turned her face toward him. Her pallor was turning a waxy color. She was in shock.

Reese reached up and touched his right ear for the phone bud and heard the ringing tone in his ear. It took four rings before Finch answered.

"Mr. Reese?" he was a little breathless.

"Joan's hurt. I think she might have been shot." Reese looked at her jacket, and he found a hole in the upper arm. He pressed it and saw her wince, blood pooled around the hole. "I need help!"

"Mr. Reese, I will find and send a doctor to you." Finch signed off with a click.

Reese reached out, gathered Joan into his arms, and bringing her against his body he stood up. She was lighter than a feather. He carried her into the bedroom, using his elbow to flip on both the light switch and the automatic curtains-closer. It was a large elegant room. The drapes were slowly closing over another ceiling to floor glass window with balcony access on the left, displaying a wonderful view of the Park. The bed was against the opposite wall. Reese gently sat Joan on the side of the bed and tried to get the long jacket off her shoulders.

She resisted for about half a minute trying to stop him. She finally gave up and let him remove the jacket. Inside on the left shoulder, the jacket had soaked up a lot of the blood, as had the three sweaters and two blouses she had on. Under all of it, she wore a t-shirt. He took everything but the t-shirt off.

Reese took his pocket knife and thumbing it open, he began cutting the cloth of the t-shirt. Leaving the crew neckline intact, he slit down the shoulder seam, exposing her shoulder and upper left arm. Blood flowed from a small hole just below her collar bone, almost at the shoulder joint.

Anger flared across his face, his lips pulled back in a scowl "Why didn't you say something?" His voice was a soft hiss.

"I didn't want to bother you." She spoke through clenched teeth, a low whisper.

He glanced at her face, seeing the waxy look was now turning an ashen color. He scooped her up and laid her down on the bed.

"No, I'm going to get this bloody." She tried to struggle.

The anger was still on his face. "I don't care! You are going to pass out if you don't lie back." He was so panicked that his movements were stiff. "Don't move…" He rushed into the bathroom, grabbed a couple towels and wet a couple washcloths then rushed back to the side of the bed. He took one of the wet washcloths, folded it in half and laid it over her forehead. Her color was a little better, now that she was lying down. Reese started to clean her wound. As he extended his left arm, he saw a rip on the inside of his overcoat arm the bullet had skirted just below his arm. The anger turned inward.

His fingers gently wiped the wet cloth over her shoulder. He noticed that the bullet had not gone through but was still lodged in her shoulder. Taking a moment, he let his long fingers gently probe around her shoulder. She wasn't quite skin and bones but he thought she looked a little underfed. He surveyed her face for a minute. He knew she was a lot older then she looked. That she had retained her beauty on the streets was amazing. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing a little shallow. He watched as she realized he was looking at her, her prey instincts kicking in, her eyes fluttered open and then she smiled at him as recognition came.

"I need to stop the blood flow…it's going to hurt a little. Give me a minute to get everything together." He rushed off and was back in less than a minute, with a full blown first aid kit that looked like something a paramedic would carry. He actually had several of these stashed around the city. After all in his line of business you never knew when a first aid kit might come in handy.

His hands deftly opened the kit and took out what he needed, barely glancing at it. He was looking at Joan instead.

She had seen him carry the kit to the side of the bed. A sardonic smile crossed her lips. "You were a boy scout, right…?"

His fingers hesitated just slightly; the smile went from his lips to his eyes. "Actually I was an Eagle Scout by the time I was thirteen, one of the youngest." His hands pulled out of the kit what he needed. He had kept the washcloth over the wound. He looked down at her. "I am going to have to put some pressure on this…Ready?

She closed her eyes, looked away and nodded.

Reese took several of the 10X10 wound dressings and pressed them over the washcloth. His right hand already had the tape ready, he used his thumb on his left hand to hold the tape in place to pull it over the bandages. He expertly tore the tape and sealed it against her skin, making a good pressure bandage over the wound.

His face showed concern as she made a small pain filled sound. "I need to put another couple strips of tape over this." She nodded. Quickly he applied two more strips of tape, and then he set the tape back in the kit. Reaching down he took her hand in his. "The doctor should be here soon. He can give you something for the pain." Reaching down he took her hand in his, feeling for her pulse, which was a little fast and faint. She moved her head again slightly in acknowledgment.

He straightened up, laying her hand back over her stomach. What color that had been in her face had faded with the pain. He took one of the spare pillows and stepping toward her feet, he placed the pillow under her heels. The color started to return after a few minutes.

He stepped back and looked down at the long blue jacket she had had on, along with the blouses and sweaters all lying on the floor. Besides the blood, he could see bundles of money sticking out from the inside pockets she had slit in the lining. Bending down, he picked everything up and headed for the bathroom.

Using his right hand, he answered the incoming call. He grunted, "Finch."

"Mr. Reese, I am sending someone you know…She should be there momentarily."

"She?" Reese's face showed the question in his voice.

"Dr. Megan Tillman…I explained I was a business associate of yours, that you had taken care of a situation for her. She is just coming off shift and when I explained that _you_ needed her help, she instantly agreed. I sent a car for her and gave her the code for the penthouse elevator." Finch's voice sounded tight. "How is Joan?"

"Looks like the bullet is still there, but we've got the med kit here so Megan should have everything she will need." He dropped the bloody clothing in the tub and headed back to the bed. He looked down at Joan. Her color was even better now that he had raised her legs. Her eyes were closed; she was still breathing a little to shallow.

"How far away is Dr Tillman?"

"I put a trace on the hired car. It is just around the corner."

Reese moved away from the bed quietly, going out of the bedroom and toward the entrance of the apartment. "Harold?"

"Yes Mr. Reese?"

"Thank you."


	8. Chapter 8

Please read and review

Reese paced between the apartment door and the bedroom, keeping an eye on both. He spent half a minute looking at his overcoat. He decided he needed to take it off. He saw the bullet had gone through the length of the sleeve. That's probably why the bullet had not gone all the way through Joan's shoulder. His suit jacket showed a small tear. He dropped the overcoat over the back of a chair as he heard the sound of the elevator door open. Reese walked to the door, opened it and saw Megan Tillman stepping off the elevator. She was a small petite woman, with expressive brown eyes and dark hair pulled back in a bun. She wore no make-up.

He saw her look up at him as he opened the door. She hesitated a moment and then continued forward. She smiled at him.

"John…" Her eyes searched his face.

"Megan…Thank you for coming." He stepped back allowing her entrance into the apartment. "Joan is in the bedroom."

Dr. Megan Tillman was an ER Doctor. She pulled latex gloves out of her purse, set it down on the chair next to an overcoat and headed into what she thought was the bedroom. She pulled the gloves on as she walked. She went to the bed and looked down at the woman lying there. The first thing she did was check for a pulse. After checking that, she looked over her shoulder at John who was standing a couple steps behind her, she had also seen the medic-kit. "Did you do the dressing?" She saw the worry in his eyes, his face was unreadable, but not his eyes. "You did a good job." She reached into the med-kit sitting by the bed and took the BP Cup and Stethoscope out and set up to take Joan's blood pressure.

"The bullet is still in there." His voice was that soft raspy whisper. He moved to the foot of the bed.

She glanced at him, seeing the same intensity in his face and eyes that she had seen that night sitting across the table from him at the restaurant. The evening he had changed her life, changed the direction it was heading in.

Megan centered back on her patient. Her blood pressure was low, not surprising. She reached down and felt the side of Joan's face, which was cool to the touch. Without looking at John she reached over Joan and pulled the covers over the lower half of her body. "I need a bowl of warm water, disinfectant soap if you have it, some more towels and can you bring that light stand closer?"

John jumped into action, getting and bringing everything she asked for.

The med-kit had saline solution in it and Megan used the lamp stand to hold the IV she set up. She found a vein and quickly established the drip. She knew the woman probably needed blood, but there wasn't any on hand. She could take a sample of blood back to the hospital and get it typed and crossed. John hovered as she worked, actually handing her the things she needed out of the med-kit before she reached for them. His medical knowledge impressed her. As she reached down to examine the wound… "Have you had medical training?" She shot John a glance as she pulled the tape off.

"He was a Boy Scout…" Joan opened her eyes and looked at the woman leaning over her.

Megan looked into the brown eyes staring back at her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw John's lips twitch in a half tight smile. Megan had smelled alcohol as she had been doing the exam, but now she knew she would have to watch out for withdrawal symptoms. She hadn't seen any track marks on the woman's arm as she had searched for a good vein for the IV. She saw that some color had returned to Joan's face. "Hi Joan, my name is Dr. Tillman…we're going to see if we can make you feel better and get you well." She studied Joan's eyes for a moment. "Joan, are you allergic to anything?"

Joan gave her a long hard look. "No."

"I am going to give you a medication for pain in the IV and then a local with a nerve block." Again out of the corner of her eye she saw John reach into the kit and pull out two different colored syringes. Both of them were correct for the next procedure. She kept Joan's attention with her own eyes. "John is going to put the pain killer in the IV. We will give it a few minutes and then I will do the local and the nerve block..." She saw John take the correct colored syringe and walk around to the IV bag.

Joan tracked him with her eyes, she smiled. "He's a good boy." She looked back at the doctor. "He kept me safe on the streets."

He injected the contents into the bag.

Dr Tillman watched as the drug took effect. She saw Joan's pupils dilate, and her eyes slowly closed. She watched her breathing. It was a little shallow, but steady. Megan raised her head and looked across the bed at John as he looked at her. She reached her hand out and John handed her the other syringe. She bent and administered the injections around the wound, without looking up. "John, come stand on my left, bring a wet wipe with soap and when I have finished this, clean the wound."

John did as requested.

Dr Tillman reached into the bag and got the forceps out of the med-kit, along with several dry wipes. She held everything in one hand and when John had cleaned the wound she took her left hand and gently felt around the wound. She transferred the clean cloth to her left hand and wiped the bullet hole dry. Then leaning over Joan's shoulder, she inserted the forceps. She skillfully followed the track of the bullet until she felt the nose of the forceps touch the metal. She opened the nose, gave a gentle push and slipped the nose over the bullet, securing the bullet she slowly extracted the metal. The bullet made a bit of a sucking noise as it exited Joan's shoulder.

"Wipe and hold." She saw a good blood flow from the wound. She saw John's hand come down, wipe the blood up and hold pressure over the wound. She wasn't surprised; he held just the right pressure on it. She examined the bullet. "Looks clean, I don't see any foreign material." She wrapped the bullet in the wipe cloth in her left hand and set it in a little tray on the med-kit lid.

She reached and took a pair of dressing scissors and a sutures pack out. Opening the pack, she bent back over John's hand. "Ok…" She watched as John removed his hand, lifting and sliding it away. Megan inspected the wound, looking at the edges. "Wipe please." She saw John's hand move in and wipe the blood that had flowed out as he had released the pressure. She quickly made a couple stitches, drawing the edges of the wound together. She snipped the ends of the sutures. "Wipe." She inspected the wound when John had finished dabbing at it. She added three more quick stitches. She straightened up slightly as John once more cleaned the seeping wound. She set the scissors and needle down, and taking a couple of Teflon bandages and a several 10X10 dressings she dressed the wound.

John had set everything down in his hands and picking up the tape he cut the lengths needed to secure the bandage. He handed them to Megan.

She took the last piece of tape and put it in place. She pulled her gloves off and checked Joan's pulse. "She's a strong lady." She looked over at John, and caught the worry in his eyes.

"She is going to be ok…" Megan saw a moment of emotion pass across his face. She reached out and touched his arm, and his green eyes cast a look over her. She'd seen that look before, the night he had kept her from killing a man in cold blood. She had obsessed about killing Benton because he had caused her sister to take her own life. Megan had asked John a question, "Is that what happened to you?" in the middle of him trying to convince her to hand Benton over to. There had been that ephemeral moment of anger, sorrow, hopelessness and resign in one movement of glancing away. And then he had looked at her. "You don't have to do this..."

But Megan did want to do it, she wanted to kill Benton, wanted to make him suffer. She had meticulously laid the plans and was in the middle of executing them when John had shown up out of the blue at the roadside diner where she had stopped for gas. He had called her by her real name, told her he wanted to buy her a cup of coffee and then had leaned down to her so the cop sitting a few stools away would not hear him "Come on, the guy you got tied up in the back of the van can wait."

Megan had gone numb with fear, but had followed him to the booth where she sat with a cup of coffee shaking so bad she couldn't hold it. He had changed her life that night as she had handed him the keys to the van.

She watched now as he stepped back from her and walked around to the other side of the bed.

Reese reached down and touched Joan's hand briefly, tucking the bed cover over her a little higher, covering her to the waist. He straightened up and looked at Megan. "Thank you." His voice was soft but tight.

"You're welcome John." She stepped to the med-kit and inspected the remaining contents. Looking to see what supplies were left, she looked back over the bed at him. Her lips pulled into a frown. "Are you hurt?" Her eyes focused in on his white shirt, just to the left of his belt buckle, hidden behind the edge of his suit jacket; there was a trace of dried blood.

"What…?" He gave her a confused look.

"Are you hurt? There is blood on your shirt." She was moving around the end of the bed toward him, pointing at his left side, as he turned toward her the jacket body opened and she saw fresh blood on the shirt. "Let me look at that." She stepped up to him. She just barely came to his chin. Reaching out, she pulled the edge of the jacket away from his torso and she could see fresh blood streaks along with some dried blood on his left side.

"That's from when I picked Joan up-." He tried to step back; he didn't think he was wounded.

"Take your jacket and shirt off." Megan started reaching up to remove his suit coat.

"I'm not hurt…" there was a little exasperation in his voice. He started to back away from her, but there was little room to move in.

Megan looked up at him and narrowed her brown eyes. "I said; take your jacket and shirt off." She was using her official Doctor's voice. She gave him a cold hard stare, locking eyes with him. "Let me look at it…" She almost smiled as she saw a pout cross his lips, but she kept the hard stare. Moving back, she gave him a little room.

He took the jacket off and looked at his side; there was fresh blood, but not a whole lot. The bullet must have nicked him, he hadn't even felt it. He saw Megan had stepped back. "It's just a scra-."

"Come out here…" Megan turned and walked into the front room, checking on Joan as she went. Her patient was still sleeping comfortably. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw that John was not following her. She stopped in the doorway and turned and gave him a smile. "Come on…I'll buy you a cup of coffee." She saw a smile touch his lips. She turned and walked into the main room.

John walked into the room and went to put the jacket back on, Megan surprised him by taking it away from him and throwing it over the chair that her purse and his overcoat were on.

She turned back toward him. "Take the shirt off John, that's fresh blood."

"I can -."

"Take it off or I will go get a pair of cut down scissors and take it off for you." She squared off against him, crossed her hands over her chest and gave him that Doctor stare that she had practiced in the mirror for many years. She saw the pout again. She waited another half a beat and then started to head back to the bedroom for the scissors.

"Alright…you win…" He started unbuttoning his shirt.

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. "I'll get some soap and clean water." She walked into the bedroom. Gathering the bowl that he had produced for Joan, she headed into the bathroom.

Megan Tillman stepped over to the sink and dumped the bowl of soapy water. She was rinsing the bowl as she glanced sideways and saw the bloody clothing in the tub. She also saw the money. Stepping closer, she looked down at the pile. Bending over, she picked a corner of the long jacket up and saw more money and packets of a white colored substance.

"It's just a scratch…" John stepped into the bathroom door. He had his left arm out and there was a red angry looking line just along the side of his ribs. But that was not what stopped her dead in her tracks. His well built torso had several scars. There were three on the left side between his belt line and the start of his rib cage, two looked like bullet scars, one looked like a knife. There was a much older scar up on his left shoulder that also looked like a knife scar. As he lowered his arm she saw a long jagged scar just below the bend in his elbow on the inside of his forearm that looked more recent.

She looked into his eyes and she saw his face change, it went to that unreadable look. His lips thinned, turning down slightly, his eyes became vacant. She watched as his vision took in the fact that she was holding the bloody jacket. Megan Tillman had seen a lot of scars, but he had enough for several lifetimes. Her hand holding the jacket was starting to shake. His body told her the story. She'd been an ER doctor in New York City for over five years; she had done her internship at the same hospital she worked at now. His body was like an open book to her. What she didn't know was how he had gotten the scars. She knew he wasn't a Police Officer, so that made him a criminal…A bad guy. The money and the drugs in the jacket

Reese let a sigh out, reading her body language. He had seen her scared before and knew that she was suddenly frightened. He realized she saw the money and drugs and his body and was making assumptions. He dropped his arm, looking at her; he stepped back out of the doorway, giving her space.

Her mind was racing. One part of her mind was screaming at her that she was in danger; the other half was telling her she was wrong, this man had helped her. She realized that he had admitted to killing people.

John shifted his gaze and took a long look at Joan as she slept. He saw that her color had vastly improved and she seemed to be comfortable. He turned and looked at Megan through the bathroom doorway. "I can explain…" He turned and walked back into the main room.

Megan Tillman drew in a ragged breath and tried to stop the shakes. In her heart she new John was a good man. Dangerous, but good. She looked down at the bloody clothing and realized that this jacket had to belong to Joan. It was too small to fit John. The money and drugs had to belong to her.

She dropped the jacket back in the tub, got the soap John had used and poured some into the bowl, filled that with water and walked out of the bathroom, checking on Joan as she walked into the main room. Her eyes found John buttoning his shirt back up. His eyes were looking out the window into the night. She grabbed a second pair of gloves as she passed her purse. "Ah…Do I need to get the scissors?"

John looked over at her, the blank look still on his face.

Megan saw the change in his eyes, they lightened. She stepped up to his side and smiled up at him. "Raise your arm and let me get a look at it." She set the bowl down and lifted his shirt tail up above the 'scratch'. She gently probed the long red line with her fingertips. "Two spots are going to need butterflies." She looked at the side of his face. "Hold your shirt up…" She gestured for him to turn slightly. "I'll be quick…"

And she was. It took twenty minutes to clean the scratch, put the two tape stitches in place and deem him fixed. The whole time he had remained looking out the window, motionless, like a statue. "Ok. Good as new…keep it dry." She gathered every thing up and took it back into the bathroom and washed up. She checked on Joan and came out to the smell of coffee.

John was standing in the kitchen. He'd made coffee and was putting out some crackers and cheese. He turned toward her as she walked across the carpet and into the kitchen. He started to say something but he saw the look on her face and in her eyes, he extended the cup of coffee in his hand to her.

Megan took the cup of coffee and gave him direct eye contact. "The bloody jacket and the money and drugs belong to Joan." She didn't make it a question but a statement.

His lips pulled up slightly. "Yes, she apparently found it…That's what she does on the streets, she's kind of like a pack-rat. I found out about it a couple days ago and have been looking for her, trying to find her before the Mexican Mafia did…" John took the other cup of coffee and put the tray of cheese and crackers on the little kitchen island. He sipped the coffee and leaned against the counter. "I was almost too late finding her, there were four assailants and they had her cornered." He sipped the coffee.

"That's when you both got hurt?" She looked at him, reaching out she took a piece of cheese and a cracker. She'd forgotten the last time she had eaten.

"Yes." John suddenly straightened and looked toward the bedroom. He set the coffee cup down. He'd heard a noise. He walked around Megan and went into the bedroom.

Megan entered the bedroom and saw John sitting on the side of the bed, gently holding Joan down.

"Where are my things…? I want my stuff…" She looked down at her body. "Where is my jacket…? Where are my things?" She was extremely agitated. She was trying to get out of bed, sit up, do anything, but the man holding her down kept her from doing what she wanted.

"Joan…it's John, your things are safe." He looked into her brown eyes and saw no recognition. He sensed Megan step up to the side of the bed, he glanced over at her, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Is there any drinking alcohol in here?" She glanced around the bedroom.

"The living room, in large cabinet against the wall, under the TV, there are several brands." He struggled to be gentle with her. She was getting more and more agitated.

Megan hurried out of the room and went to the cabinet, opening it she was quiet shocked by the display, all expensive brand labels. She chose the Scotch the seal had been broken on it and she poured an ample amount into a glass and hurried back into the bedroom.

Stepping up to the side of the bed, she glanced at John and moved the glass of scotch in front of Joan's nose. It was like a bird dog scenting its prey. Joan stopped struggling. John helped prop her up and let go of her hands. Joan took the glass and shot it down. She looked at the both of them and then handed Megan the glass. With John's help, she lay back down. Joan closed her eyes and was out like a light.

John knew the whole incident had never registered with Joan.

"Every hour or so we are going to need to give her some alcohol so she doesn't go into withdrawal." Megan suddenly yawned. She stepped back from the bed, covering her mouth with her free hand. "Sorry…been a long night."

John stood up, went over to one of the drawers and pulling out a second blanket. He walked back to Joan and laid it over her. Then he went back to the same set of drawers and pulled out extra sheets, pillows and blankets and headed into the front room and the couch. He made a bed on the couch. He looked at Megan as he finished, she had followed him out.. "I know from experience that this couch is comfortable to sleep on." He walked away and went to the wall and pressed the button to close the drapes across the windows as the sun was starting to make the sky to the east an array of reds, yellows and gold's.

Megan watched him as he went and refilled his coffee cup. He picked it up and walked toward her. He stopped and carefully reached a hand out and touched her arm. "Thank you for saving Joan." He nodded to a closed door next to the TV center. "There are spare toothbrushes, hair brushes, combs…anything you need should be in there." He walked into the bedroom.

Megan looked from the couch to the front door and then back at the couch. It would take an hour to get to her apartment. She turned and walked to the bedroom door and saw John sitting in a chair, at the side of the bed, sipping the coffee. She heard him talking softly.

"Yes Finch, everything if fine, Joan is resting well, Dr. Tillman is going to sleep on the couch." He was quiet for a moment. "Yes, I will handle it…" He reached up and touched the side of his ear.

Finch was the name of the man who had called her, asking her to help John. She assumed he was talking to him on a remote phone. She watched as he leaned over and set his coffee cup down on the bedside table. His hand reached out and pulled the blanket lying over Joan up over her arms and then he sat back in his chair. She stepped back and went to the guest bathroom, She'd clean up a little, get some sleep and then go home….


	9. Chapter 9

John had been right. Megan found that the couch was a very comfortable bed. The sheets were a high thread count and felt good against her arms and face. She thought she would have trouble going to sleep, but with-in seconds she was out.

Megan got up once; she saw it was noon by the clock. The heavy drapes let no light in. She used the bathroom and checked on Joan. As she walked into the room she saw that John was sitting straight up in the chair, his hands folded in his lap. His shoulders were relaxed and his head was turned slightly to the side and his chin was almost touching his chest.

Very quietly she stepped to the opposite side of the bed, slowed the drip on the IV bag and checked Joan's pulse. Everything looked good. She saw that the bottle of Scotch and the glass were sitting on the bedside table. Apparently Joan had awakened at least once and John had gotten the bottle of Scotch out of the cabinet. Megan glanced over her shoulder at John. She herself could not sit up and sleep, but she knew several doctors who could do it. She knew it was a learned habit. They had been in the military. She wondered if John had also been in the service.

John never flinched or moved a muscle but the moment Megan had walked in he had become alert. He sensed her moving quietly. He cracked his eyes, looking through his eyelashes he saw her check Joan, watched as she spied the Scotch bottle and glanced at him. He went back to sleep as she walked back toward bedroom door.

Megan walked back to the couch and lay back down. Today or actually tonight was her night off. She wished she had a change of clothes, but it wouldn't be the first time she had worn the same clothes for a day or two. Her head hit the pillow and she was asleep.

Coffee. She smelled coffee. Megan opened her eyes and blinked against the sunlight shining in. The rain was over. She had slept way too hard. Pushing herself into an upright position on the couch, she looked around the room. The drapes were open, and by the sun coming in it looked like late afternoon. There were still big white clouds in the sky, but no rain. Glancing at the clock she saw it was 5:00 pm. Getting to her feet she went to the guest bathroom to clean up. She took her hair out of what had been a bun, and brushed it out with one of the ten hairbrushes she found. She pulled it back into a pony tail. Because of the numerous toothbrushes, toothpastes and hairbrushes she opened the other drawers just to see what else was stored. There was an array of different brands of deodorants, make-up, and multiple brands of pain relievers: Aspirin, Tylenol, Advil, even low dose Aspirin, all untouched.

She finished in the bathroom and walked out.

John was folding the blanket from the couch, the sheets were already folded. She smiled at the picture before her. She could never keep the sheets or blankets off the floor when she was folding things, she was just too short, and she always had to lay them across something.

She realized he had changed shirts. "Good morning…or I guess afternoon. How's Joan?" She was headed to the bedroom.

"Coffee is ready and Joan is awake." John quickly finished folding the blanket and grabbed everything and followed Megan into the bedroom. "She was pretty agitated when she woke up so I had to give her her coat back."

Megan walked into the room and saw Joan awake and sitting propped up in bed by several pillows. Gathered in her arms was the blue coat from the tub. As Megan drew closer to the bed, Joan hugged the coat closer to her body, staring at Megan with distrust in her eyes.

Megan stopped at the foot of the bed and smiled at Joan. Her color was good, her eyes were tacking well. "Hi, Joan…I am Dr. Tillman…We met last night, do you remember me?" She watched her brown eyes as they took her in.

"No...I don't know you." She stared the woman standing at the foot of the bed, giving her a long look up and down. Joan had woken in a strange room with John sitting in a chair looking at her. And he had taken her possession from her. It was her coat…But he had given it back to her. He had convinced her she didn't have to put it on right now, and it hurt her shoulder to move too much. She hugged the coat closer to her.

John stepped to the side of the bed. "It's ok Joan, Dr. Tillman is a friend of mine and she came here to fix you up and make you better." He glanced at Megan and smiled. "She won't take any of your possessions." He walked past the bed and placed the sheets and blanket in a hopper of sorts at the edge of the built in closets and drawers where he had gotten the bedding from last night. He turned and walked back to the side of the bed. "Joan, the Doctor needs to look at your shoulder, ok?"

Joan looked from John to Megan and then back to John. "This is mine. I am going to keep it."

John nodded and stepped closer to the bed. "Yes, it is yours, and the Doctor isn't going to touch it…She just wants to look at your shoulder." John knew how funny she was about things that she thought belonged to her.

Megan saw that the IV bag was just about finished. "Joan…I am going to remove the IV from your arm first." She turned and walked out of the room, coming back pulling on latex gloves. She stepped up to the side of the bed and looked at Joan. "Ready?" She saw her nod. She slowly leaned forward and as gently as she could she removed the tape and pulled the needle out of the vein. She saw that John was already holding a cotton ball with new tape. She hadn't even seen him move. She handed John the needle and tubing and took the tape and cotton ball. Pressing it over the puncture, she looked up at Joan. "That's got to feel better." She studied her face for a moment. "Now let's take a look at that shoulder. Does it hurt?"

"A little…When I move." She took her right arm that had had the IV in it and gathered her coat to that side of her body, tucking it away from the Doctor's reach.

Megan smiled at her. She examined the area around the wound. It was cool to the touch, didn't look infected, which didn't surprise her. As an ER doctor, she had tended to a lot of homeless people and they seemed to have a good resistance for infections, considering their life style. But she would still give John a prescription for antibiotics today to get filled. "Well Joan…The wound looks good. You don't seem to have a temperature. Couple day's bed rest and you'll be as good as new."

Joan hugged her jacket closer to her body. "Then I can leave?"

"Let's see how you are feeling in a couple days. Are you hungry?" Stepping back Megan shifted her look over to John then back at Joan. "Joan, John made coffee would you like some?"

Joan looked up at John who was standing at the foot of the bed. "He used to bring me coffee in the morning, he'd find me no matter where I was."

"With cream and sugar…" John's voice was that soft raspy sound. There was a slight smile to his lips. "I'll get it for you now…" He turned and walked out of the room.

Megan turned and followed him out of the room. She walked into the kitchen area where John was putting a couple teaspoons of sugar in a coffee cup. "We need to see if we can get her to eat…and I'll write a prescription for antibiotics. You need to get it filled and get her started on it."

As he poured the coffee he looked over at her. "There are some pastries that I had delivered this morning, there in that basket." He gestured with his head. He set the coffee pot down and poured some cream into the cup. "Can you stay with her while I get the prescription filled? I can pick up food while I am out?"

It wasn't the way she had wanted to spend her evening off, but she knew Joan shouldn't be left alone. "Yes, I'll stay." She saw John smile.

John got a pastry and the coffee and gave them to Joan, then took the prescription Megan wrote and hurried out. He was worried about Finch. He had called and not gotten an answer.

POI

"Finch…." John called down the hallway. The cage was locked into the computer area. John grabbed his cell phone and punched the speed dial again for Finch.

It was answered on the fourth ring. "Yes Mr. Reese?"

"Where the hell are you Harold?" Reese's voice was flat.

"Is there a problem Mr. Reese?" Finch's voice was calm.

"I called you about an hour ago and you didn't answer …" He drew a breath and tried to calm down. It wasn't like him to get this frustrated when he was angry.

Finch heard the indrawn breath. He had heard the touch of fear under the anger in Reese's voice. "I am sorry John. I was… indisposed and could not answer the phone at the time. I am coming into the Library as we speak."

The phone disconnected. John stood staring at the cage. He put the cell phone back in his pocket and pulled out the keys to the lock to open the gate. The last time he had seen Finch, the man was still in a lot of pain. He had been worried when Finch didn't answer the phone that there was something wrong. He pushed the expand-gate back and turned and looked down the hallway to see Finch rounding the corner. He had taken the stairs. So he must have been feeling better.

John watched as Finch hobbled past him.

"How is Joan this morning?" Finch was a little breathless. He stopped at the desk and set his small brief case down; it contained his laptop and the ever present book. He looked back at Reese, waiting for an answer.

As Finch had passed him he had caught the faint aroma of Sweet Almond oil. Finch had had a massage. He smiled. Reese drew in a deep breath, and let it out as he walked toward the desk and Finch. "She is awake and doing well. Dr Tillman is sitting with her." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, handing it Finch. "I need information on this guy. He was one of the henchmen after Joan." It was a wallet he had taken from one of the men at the underpass.

Finch opened the wallet and pulled out an ID card, Jesus Mendez, no driver's license, couple hundred in cash and a condom. Finch turned to the computer. "Let me see what I can find…"

He watched as John sauntered down the book lined aisle and vanished for several minutes. The whole time, Finch was setting up the search for Mendez. Finch hit the enter button as John came back, holstering his gun at the small of his back. In his left hand he carried a small duffle bag. John came to a halt at the edge of the computer desk and looked over the monitors at Finch. "I'll be at the safe house with Joan. I might need you to stay with her if I can't get Dr. Tillman to sit with her." Reese saw that the pain lines were gone from around Finch's mouth and eyes.

Finch looked up from the search, seeing the glint in Reese's eyes. "What are you going to do Mr. Reese?" Finch's voice carried a very cautious tone too it.

A sardonic smile touched John's lips, moving into his eyes. "I promised them." He pointed to the wallet, lying on the desk top. "That I would give back their money and drugs that Joan found…"

Concern touched Finch's eyes as he saw the expression on Reese's face. He watched as Reese took the wallet off the desk. He heard a clink of metal on metal from the duffle bag. The concerned look went to one of worry. "Mr. Reese, what are you planning?"

"I plan on giving them what they want Finch…Do you have an address yet?" He knew Finch had one and he stepped around to stand next to Finch who was sitting in his swivel chair.

"Yes, Mr. Reese…" He tapped a couple keys. "It's going to your phone right now."

Reese felt the buzz of a text message and smiled He reached down and touched the other man on the shoulder very gently. "Glad you are feeling better Finch." He turned and headed out of the room. Finch was better, Joan was safe and he had a project to do…life couldn't get much better….


	10. Chapter 10

POI

Joan was sitting in a chair, after taking a shower. Dr. Tillman had washed her hair and combed it out. Before he had left John told them there was an array of different sized clothing in the closets, both men's and women's. They could help themselves to what they needed. He also explained that there were 'ladies' things in the top two drawers on the right hand side of the closets, left hand side had guy things. They found everything they needed to get Joan clean clothing, except for the blue jacket. Megan had convinced her to at least set it aside while she took the shower.

Megan had covered Joan's shoulder with a plastic cover for the shower and removed it after also replacing the old bandage with a fresh dressing. They had just gotten settled when the front desk called and said there was a food delivery and asked if they could bring it up.

Megan was surprised that Joan was bouncing back as quick as she was. She had eaten the muffin and drunk the coffee John had brought to her and taken the shower and gotten dressed. That was a lot of activity for a few hours. When the delivery from Delmont's arrived, Megan signed for it.

Joan got excited. "I'll bet he sent a Chef salad…"

Megan had the bellman set the two huge bags on the table. She tipped him and closed the door. Going back to the table and the bags, she started to take small boxes out. She watched as Joan slowly got out of the straight-backed chair that John had sat in last night and walked over to sit down at the table. Joan was wearing long sleeved cotton, buttoned blouse and had settled for cotton work out pants. She had kept her old tennis shoes. And, of course, the ever present blue jacket was tucked up under her right arm. She carefully sat down at the table, laying the jacket across her lap, looking at the bags like a kid at Christmas.

Megan pulled out a large round plastic plate with a clear cover: written across the top was _Chef Salad. _She smiled at Joan. "You're right Joan, John sent a Chef Salad."

Joan clapped her right hand against the top of the table. "I knew he would take care of us…" She chuckled. "I never figured out how he did it, but John would show up in the alley, bringing me and some of the others who hung around our spot all kinds of prepared foods, every few days." She tucked her hair behind her right ear. "He'd appear out of the shadows, hand me the food and then wander off. Poof, just like that, he'd be gone again," She smiled at the memory. She looked up at Megan. "You know he talks to himself…?"

Megan blurted out a chuckle, looking over the table at her. She knew about the ear bud he wore. "Yes, I know he talks to himself…" She grinned. She started back on the bags.

There were several other boxes, another salad, apple and walnut. A Hoagie sandwich, a dinner salad, Pasta in Alfredo sauce, Pasta in Clam sauce and an array of small individual breads: wheat, sour dough, German rye. There were two small white boxes that were unmarked. She had pulled everything out and saw that even though there was plastic cutlery; it was the heavy, expensive kind. There were several different small plastic cup containers with lids that were marked: salad dressings, butter, Parmesan cheese and little hot peppers. Megan was impressed.

Megan was taking the lid off Joan's Chef Salad when she heard the elevator ding, and a half a minute later John unlocked the door and came in.

"Good, the food arrived." He moved into the room. "And I see that Joan is up and about." He stopped at the table and looked at the both of them. Reaching into his pocket he produced a pill bottle, which he handed to Megan. He moved over to Joan and squatted down at her side. "How are you feeling?" His eyes studied her face for a moment, as she turned her head to look at him.

"You remembered the Chef Salad." She beamed at him

John smiled at her. "I remembered how much you like it." He twisted slightly and looked over the table at Megan. "I hope there is something in there you like, I wasn't sure so I got a few extras." He saw her nod, then turned back to Joan. John slowly reached out and touched her hand, careful to stay away from the jacket. "Enjoy your salad." He slowly pulled his hand back and stood up, stepping back from Joan.

"John, did you get something for yourself?" Megan gestured with her hand at the spread laid across the table.

"Oh, no…I've already eaten. Thank you." He wasn't about to tell her he didn't eat when he was working. He looked everything over; making sure the order was complete. "But I was wondering if you could stay with Joan just a couple more hours?" He studied her face. "I have a little errand to run." He watched her eyes as she made the decision.

POI

John waited in the darkness across the street from Jesus Mendez's, aka Jowl's, apartment. Jowl's partner was Hector Martinez, a known associate. Finch had found all this out in the Police Database. John had already been through Hector's apartment a few blocks away; he had done the same with Jesus' place, finding very little. Neither were married, neither had girlfriends living with them and Jesus was a messy house keeper. No computers and no traceable cell phones. The one interesting thing he did find in both apartments was a stash of weapons and some surveillance equipment.

John rolled his shoulders in the overcoat and rolled his head on his neck. He'd been here about an hour now up on the roof top across the street from Jowl's apartment complex. Reese had positioned himself with his back against the top of the structure for the elevator housing. Without moving too much he could look slightly down the opposite wall across the street and see directly into Jowl's apartment. He glanced up at the sky. Clouds were starting to form again, but so far no rain.

A light came on in the apartment and John brought the ever present telephoto camera up to focus in on the window. Jesus walked by the window and headed into the bedroom. Another light came on. John had left a wireless microphone in the apartment.

John watched as the man went into the bedroom, stripped down, and went in the bathroom to take a shower. Soon he returned to the bedroom from the bathroom and turning all the lights out, went to bed.

John grinned into the night sky. Moving out, he went to the door leading from the roof, down the stairs and out the building. Crossing the street, John had his bump key ready and was in the apartment building in nothing flat. He took the stairs to the fifth floor and slowly walked down to 512. Listening at the door for a moment, he inserted the bump key, gave it a shake and a quiet hit and opened the door. He stepped into the room, shut the door and stood still for a moment. The sound of soft snoring came from the direction of the bedroom. Reese walked into the bedroom, over to the window and closed the blinds. Moving to the bed, he pulled his gun. He turned the bedside lamp on, and retrieved Jowl's gun that was lying next to the base of the lamp. John lowered his right hand so that his gun barrel was just an inch from Jowl's nose as the man woke and reached for his gun.

"We meet again…" John smiled and it wasn't a pleasant smile. Reese saw recognition come into those blue eyes. He slid the extra gun in his pocket.

Jowl's sucked in a deep breath, let it out and flopped back on the bed. "Now what?" He looked at the man standing over his bed with a mixture of fear and anger.

"I told you I would give the money and drugs back, but I want a meet with Miguel Alverez…I want his word that he'll leave the woman alone." Reese's voice was that raspy, even tone.

"Who the hell are you?" His blue eyes locked on Reese, anger now starting to show.

"Good question…" Reese gestured with the barrel of the gun. "How about a concerned citizen…?" He shifted his gun to his left hand. He was equally accurate with either hand; he could also write quite well either right or left handed, another taught skill. Reaching with his right hand, he pulled a cell phone out of his right pocket and tossed it onto Jowl's chest. "Have your boss call me for the meet…press one" John deliberately turned and started to walk out of the bedroom. He heard the shift in the bed springs and grinned. He turned back with his gun raised toward a very surprised Jowl's, who had reached under the mattress for his spare gun, to find it not there.

Jowl's swallowed hard, licking his lips, looking up at his tormenter. He saw the laughter show in the green eyes staring back at him. He suddenly felt very inept at his job.

Reese saw the look cross Jowl's face. "You might want to look into a different occupation…" With that he turned and walked out.


	11. Chapter 11

Please read and review

POI

Reese took the back way into the apartment building. He called the elevator up to the tenth floor, punched in the code for the penthouse and rode it all the way up to the penthouse. He entered the code for the door and slipped in silently. It was close to 3 in the morning and John had expected both Joan and Megan to be sound asleep.

Megan was sitting on the couch, reading as he slipped in. She looked up from the book. She hadn't heard the elevator or the door code.

"Is Joan alright?" His body tensed, worry crossed his face.

Megan saw his body stiffen; his green eyes shift toward the bedroom and then back to her. She smiled. "Joan is sleeping and has been for." She glanced at her watch "about three hours straight now." She closed the book and got to her feet as he moved into the room. She gave him a long look. "You look tired."

John stopped at the table and looked over at her. He didn't feel tired. He'd been known to go a couple days on just an hour's sleep…again, the training. "No I feel fine…" He was a little hungry though.

As if reading his mind she moved past him and into the kitchen. "Would you like me to heat up something to eat?" She went to the refrigerator, opened it and looked inside. "There are the pastas, the Hoagie and a box of those fabulous little deserts that you sent. She smiled at him over the door to the refrigerator. "I think that's why Joan is sleeping so well, she got her fix of sugar and was out like a light."

John took his overcoat off and moving over to the straight-backed chair next to the little table, he laid his coat over it. "I can heat it up. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I'm a night owl, my shift is second shift, 3 to 11 pm so I usually stay awake until 5 or 6 am…then get up around 1 pm. This is my 'awake' time, unless I have worked doubles like the other night…" She shifted slightly. "Please, let me get you something to eat?"

John looked over at her. "Ok…how about the pasta with clam." He saw her nod as she reached into the open refrigerator and pulled the plastic container out. Walking over to the stove she got a pan out, and turned the electric burner on and started to put the pasta and clam into the pan.

"You can microwave it if you want." He removed his dress jacket and walked to the sink, rolling his sleeves up.

"This doesn't dry it out as bad and heats it more evenly." She gave the mixture a stir. "What kind of bread would you like…?" She smiled. "The German Rye was the best I have ever eaten." She glanced over at him as she walked by, heading to the cupboard that held the plates.

"The pasta will be fine." He turned the water on, using the soap from the built in dispenser, he washed his hands. He turned to reach for a towel to dry his hands and found Megan standing there, holding it out for him. He smiled at her. "Thank you…" He saw the look in her eyes change and he knew the question that was coming.

She drew a shaky breath, fixing her eyes on his. "I haven't seen him since that night."

Reese reached out, took the offered towel and dried his hands. He studied her as she stood before him, trembling. He let a smile move from his lips into his eyes. Turning his head just slightly he reached out and touched her on the forearm. His voice soft and raspy. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee?" He saw the fear slip from her face and turn to curiosity.

Drawing in a ragged breath she chuckled nervously and glanced down at the floor. "Let me get your food while you make the coffee…" Not looking at him she walked to the stove, took the spoon and stirred the pasta and sauce again.

Reese made coffee and brought two cups to the table, bring her sugar. She had used sugar the night he had talked her out of killing a man. He watched as she spooned the heated pasta onto a plate. Grabbing silverware from a drawer she brought it over to him.

"There is a container of grated parmesan cheese. Would you like it?" She glanced up at him. There were napkins left on the table from the order, and she moved them so he could reach one if needed.

He held a chair out for her. "Thank you, but no…" He gestured to the chair and as she sat, he moved to the chair where she had put his plate and sat down. Reese swirled a fork full of pasta, put it in his mouth and chewed. He silently watched her as she spooned sugar into her coffee.

She glanced over at him and picking up her cup she sipped the coffee. She watched as he ate another forkful and then drank some coffee. She saw him set the coffee down and look at her, making eye contact.

"Benton had a bit of a mental break down, about a month ago." The corner of Reese's lips turned up slightly. "He had been going to work, doing his job and going home." A smirk crossed Reese's face. "Benton ventured out about a month ago and as he walked into a bar, he received a phone call." Reese hesitated, looking to the left. "He left the bar immediately," John looked back at Megan. "He went straight back to his apartment… Even though, he has changed his whole alarm system." his hand came up and he raised two fingers. "twice in as many months, there was a note sitting on his kitchen counter." Reese shook his head slightly almost chuckling. "Seems it was more than his nerves could handle."

John leaned back in the chair; he took his coffee cup, sipping at the still steaming brew. "He is in a private sanatorium, where his lawyers and family placed him." His eyes watched Megan's reaction. "According to his doctor's reports, he's going to be there awhile." He watched as she took a deep breath and dropped her head into her hands. He had seen a fleeting moment of both happiness and sadness flash across her face.

"I wanted him dead…" She shook her head. Scrubbing her hands over her face she looked up at John, tears in her eyes. She folded her hands together and set them under her chin. "Is it evil to be glad to know he is suffering?" Her voice was a rough whisper, full of anger at herself. It showed in her teary eyes.

Reese set the coffee cup down and leaned across the table, touching her on the forearm. "No…it is natural to want to see someone punished for their wrong doings." He saw a tear run down her cheek and without thinking he gently reached out and wiped it away. He dropped his hand and started to draw away both physically and mentally.

Megan reached down and grasped the back of his hand. "I never said thank you that night..." Her voice caught.

John turned his arm over and took her hand in his, much like they had done the night she had given the keys to the van to him. His voice was tight with emotion. "I am glad that I was able to…help you-."

"Gave me a second chance…" She stared at him through teary eyes, blinking the tears ran unchecked down her cheeks.

His head turned ever so slightly and he smiled at her for a long moment…then he gently squeezed her fingers and withdrew his hand. He grabbed the pasta plate, the fork and stood up heading to the garbage where he cleaned the plate off. He went to the stove and grabbed the pan she had heated the food in, washed and rinsed everything in the sink, then toweled everything dry. He put everything back in its proper place.

He turned back toward where she was still sitting at the table. Her head was back in her hands and her shoulders were hunched forward, shaking slightly. He hesitated for a moment. John wanted to step up to her, pull her to her feet and wrap his arms around her, hold her. Instead he turned and walked toward the bedroom he would check on Joan.

Joan was snoring softly. Walking to one of the built in drawers, he pulled it open and pulled out: sheets, a pillow and a blanket and silently walked back into the living room and to the couch. He saw Megan was still at the table. He made the couch as he had the night before and when it was ready he turned to Megan. She was wiping her face with one of the napkins from the restaurant. "Try and get some sleep." He saw her nod. She didn't look at him. He turned and walked back into the bedroom.

He went into the master bathroom, shut and locked the door. Leaving the light out, he put his back to the door and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the cool tile. Reaching into his pocket he took a cloned phone to the one he had given Jowls, and flipping it open he punched the lighted # sign. Jowls' phone had been set up to record any voice activity it heard, and record it to the one he now put to his ear. Reese listened to Jowls and then Alverez and heard what they were planning to do to him when they set him up. Reese grinned into the darkness. He closed the phone, laid his hand in his lap with the phone set on vibrate and instantly dropped off to sleep. Again the training: sleep when you can.


	12. Chapter 12

Please read and review, if you like it let me know, if you don't like it let me know...thank you

John came fully awake. He flipped the phone in his hand open and saw that he had been asleep for a little over an hour. Rolling sideways he got to his feet and listened in the darkness. He didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Flipping the light switch on, he walked to the sink, dropping the phone in his pocket. Running water he splashed some on his face and dried himself off. He was going to need to shave. He was getting a little scruffy looking. He heard a noise in the bedroom and went to the door. It was almost 6 am. Opening the door, he saw Joan sitting on the side of the bed, clutching her jacket. The curtains were open in the living room and light came in through the open bedroom door.

Crossing to the bed he walked around to her. "Joan, what's wrong?" He saw the panicked look on her face; her body language was one of agitation. Worry and concern crossed his face. "Talk to me…"

"I want to go home." She clutched the blue jacket. "I don't like it here John, brings back to many bad memories." She stared at him for a moment then looked away.

Reese sat down on the side of the bed with her, reaching out slowly with his hand. "Joan?" he offered it in a friendly gesture. He saw her glance back at him, look down at his hand and then look away. But, she reached out with her left hand and gently grasped his. A smile touched John's eyes. "I know this is difficult for you, but I need a little more time to make the streets safe for you." He felt her squeeze his hand. "You know you don't have to live on the street, I could-."

"NO!" She launched to her feet, moving away from him. She went toward the curtains in the bedroom that were still drawn closed. Moving to the center, parting them just slightly, she looked out. Early morning light flooded in. "I don't like the view from up here." She let go of the curtains and semi-darkness returned. She turned back toward him. "I had that life John, I had this view, I was on top of my game and all it got me was pain." She hugged the blue coat. "I gave every ounce of energy to my profession. In a cut throat business I tried to help all those I could and when things went a little bad, those people I thought were my friends betrayed me." She drew in a ragged breath. "I loved a man with all my heart, gave him everything he ever wanted and asked so little in return and he died in the arms of a woman I thought was my best friend, **in** my bed…**in** my own bed John!" Her voice was embittered; her body started to sway back and forth, rocking, hugging herself.

John came to his feet and started toward her, sorrow written across his face.

"No, don't touch me…" She stepped back toward the curtains, her eyes reflecting the tears in what light there was from the doorway. "I don't want comfort from anyone…" She shifted slightly. "I live on the streets because that is where I feel most alive these days. I have everything I need and occasionally." Her head came up and she locked in on John's eyes with her own. "I find someone who needs looking after…"

John was about to say something, but the clone phone took that moment to buzz. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. "I've got to talk to these people." He saw her nod and turning back toward the bathroom; he walked in and shut the door. Flipping the phone open, pressing it against his left ear, he waited. He listened for a moment before the person on the other end spoke.

"You got my money, my drugs, smart ass?" The voice carried a heavy Mexican accent.

"Is this Alverez?" John's voice tone was even and flat. He looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes going that cold green, his jaw muscles tightened, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I am Alverez and who are you?"

John had been looking at himself in the mirror. He lowered his eyes, looking at the sink. "Smart Ass is as good as a name as any." His voice almost purred with anger. "But it's Mr. Smart Ass to you." He drew a steady breath, the smirk cross his lips. "You get your money and drugs back as long as you promise to leave the woman alone."

There was hesitation "Yeah…we'll leave her be." There was a laugh. "One hour, the old garage at 43rd Ave and 18th street…Better have my stuff."

"Two hours and I will be there…" Reese expected an argument.

"Fine." The phone went dead.

Reese pulled the phone away from his ear and punched the # sign, opening the speaker on the other end.

"I tell you Boss, he is one hombre malo." Jowl's voice.

"Well" this was Alverez, "he ain't going to be malo for long, when you shoot him down in the middle of the garage, he'll be dead." His voice was moving away from Jowls. "Find that woman and take her out too!" there was a laugh from somewhere. "Get set up. I want at least three men up on the mezzanine, use the AK's." There was the sound of footsteps walking away. "You four go with him since he seems to think this guy is so malo." His voice was fading "I'll be in the office when you get the drugs and money back…and it better all be there…"

"Just like when we did Alfonzo?" Jowl's voice sounded excited.

"Yeah, but I don't want Senor Smart Ass recognizable…like you left Martinez …no ha…" He was now out of range of the phone's microphone and there was just static.

Reese punched the end call button and reached up and touched his ear bud. "Finch?"

"Yes Mr. Reese, good morning?"

Reese sent a look to the ceiling and raised an eye brow. "Good Morning Mr. Finch. Sounds like you're feeling better this morning." A smile touched the corner of his lips and his eyes. "Going to be a little busy here this morning-"

"Yes I have been monitored the conversations. Your Mr. Mendez's is quite a busy man. He's been really talking you up-."

"Can you send me his location as of a few minutes ago?" Reese heard those quick fingers tapping away.

"Of course I can…" He was silent for a moment, "Sending you the address, now."

Reese turned and opened the bathroom door and stepped out. His eyes quickly scanned the bedroom. No Joan. He took four long strides and was looking in the other room, the guest bathroom door was open, the bathroom was empty, no one in the kitchen or at the dinner table. There was the smell of coffee. The sheets and blankets had been neatly folded and left on the corner of the couch. Both Joan and Megan were gone.

"What is your plan for this situation?" Finch had sat down in front of his computer monitors. He was running a program.

Reese said something under his breath as he rushed for the front door. "I'll call you back in a minute or two Finch…It seems Joan is feeling strong enough to take a stroll." He reached up and touched the ear bud, flipping the cloned phone closed he dropped it in his pocket. He ran out the door and headed for the stairs, throwing open the door he launched himself into a headlong plunge down the stairs, catching every third step down as he plummeted toward the bottom floor. He threw open the ground floor door as he heard the bell ring for the elevator. He quickly crossed to the elevator as the door open and blocked Joan from being able to get out.

Gently taking her by the arm he stepped her back inside, hit the close button and punched the code in for the Penthouse. He turned toward her, giving her his best stern look. "I need you to stay here for just a little bit longer, can you do that for me?"

She was hugging her blue jacket.

He had taken the baggies of drugs out and left the money. She hadn't said anything about the drugs so he was hoping she didn't remember.

"I want to go home John…" She looked back at him, giving him a look he hadn't seen in quite awhile.

His shoulders slumped, he had a flash back of the last time he had seen that exact look come across her face. He had reached for something that had caught his eye, it was resting on top of her cart. She had suddenly produced a thick staff, about three feet long and smacked him hard across the top of the arm. He had been so stunned he had not reacted. He just stood there staring at her. She pointed the staff at him. The look, coming to her face; it was a wild, mad woman staring back at him. _'This is mine_; _keep your fingers to yourself.'_ She had almost hissed it at him. She had always been so generous with everything else. It had shocked his liquor soaked brain.

He closed his eyes as the elevator continued its upward climb. He drew a deep breath and let it out, opening his eyes, his look became one of exasperation. Her wild eyed look didn't change. "How about we send out for a salad?

"I don't want a salad…" Her look didn't change.

Then he remembered. "There are still the little cakes and cookies from last night?" His voice was soft, his face animated a little. He hoped they were still in the refrigerator. He saw the look soften in her eyes, she blinked.

Her expression changed, the wild look going out of her eyes. "The little cakes?"

He nodded as the door to the elevator opened, he prayed the little cakes were still in there or he'd be dead meat. He stepped half way out of the elevator and gestured toward the Penthouse door.

Joan physically seemed to change, she straightened. Reaching up she touched a hand to her hair and then tucked a stray lock behind her right ear. The ever present blue jacket was snug under her left arm. She looked at John as if she were suddenly just seeing him. "This is nice of you John." She walked off the elevator and toward the door to the Penthouse.

Reese reached up and touched the ear bud.

"Yes Mr. Reese?" Finch's voice sounded in his ear.

"I need you to come to the Penthouse as soon as you can. There is a bag on the back shelf, above my little stash of things. It has a tag on it that says "important." Can you bring it with you?"

"I am on my way Mr. Reese."

John as he punched in the code for the door, reached up toward his right ear. "Thank you Finch." It disconnected before he touched it. He stepped back and ushered Joan back into the Penthouse.

She walked in and went to the dining room table and pulled out a chair. Sitting down she looked expectantly at John who was already heading to the refrigerator. Opening it he pull the white box out and said a little prayer before he opened it…Yes, there were little cakes. A huge sigh escaped between pursed lips. He turned and walked toward Joan, smiling.

POI

John did a couple things before he left Finch in charge of Joan. He dug into his black bag and pulled out a small remote transmitter and linked it to his and Finch's cell phones. Using his best stealth mode he dropped the transmitter into one of Joan's coat pockets. Then he gave Joan instructions. She needed to help Harold. He had a hard time getting around and she needed to help him. He hated to do it to Finch but he knew it would keep her here until he got back. Then he instructed Finch not to touch the blue jacket under any circumstances. With that he gathered his black bag marked "important" and headed for the meeting.

Once outside he found that the clouds were rolling back in and there was rain on the wind. That was fine. He pulled his cell phone out and punched the speed dial #2 button. Dropping the cell phone back into his pocket, he touched the ear bud.

It rang a few times and then Joss Carter answered. "So…what's new?"

Reese smiled. He was borrowing the car from Finch. Opening the trunk he put his bag there. "I have a question for you?" the smile continued, he closed the trunk lid. His eyes were never at rest, he scanned the area as he went toward the car door.

"Ok?" Carter was sitting at her desk in the bull pen; she turned slightly and sheltered her lips by putting her hand to the side of her face.

"Does the name Alfonzo Martinez ring a bell?" Reese heard her typing in the name.

"Yeah, open case, found dead in a warehouse/garage over at 43rd Ave and 18th street, they used AK 47's, shot the building up pretty good…We figured it was gang related…Why?" She got a devilish smile. "Please tell me you didn't shoot someone." Her voice carried a hint of laughter.

The smile went to his eyes. "Not yet, but…" he glanced at his watch, "in about forty-five minutes if you were to roll a swat team, you will probably find the shooters and the weapons they used. They are expecting me. I have another engagement, so I thought you could drop by and arrest them…" He opened the car door, slid behind the steering wheel and put the key in the ignition. "You'll find a stash in the North-West corner of the building." He pulled his seatbelt across his body and clicked it. Dropping the car into gear he sped off. He needed to be on his way to get everything done. "I'll call you later…" He reached up and touched the ear bud, ending the call.

POI

John glanced again at the address Finch had sent him. It was a small business area, a middle class area of New York. He had delivered the package to the garage. It had taken him a few minutes to slip in. Jowls and his compadres were moving around the garage area. It was larger than a normal garage but not a full sized warehouse. Reese listened to their conversations, most in Spanish, which he was fluent in now. He dropped the package off and headed out. As he was leaving the area, headed for Alverez he saw the swat team forming several blocks away. It made him smile.

Parking the car in a garage two blocks away from the address Finch had given him, Reese opened the trunk and took his black bag marked "important" out. Hefting the strap up over his shoulder he headed for the address. He went out the back way entrance to the parking garage and moved down the street toward the address.

The address was to an Import Company. The sign stated 'Alverez, Fine Hand Carved Mexican Furniture' There was a large front window that displayed several chairs, couches and a bed frame. The showroom was well lighted.

Reese stood in the shadows of the building across the street and watched the window for a few minutes. He pulled on a pair of soft deer skin black gloves as he watched two people in the store. A young woman with long dark colored hair, in her late 20's possibly a little younger. The other was a man in a tailored silk suit, early 30's. He had a heavy build, but it wasn't fat. He stood probably 6 foot even and he moved like a man who knew his body. Reese watched as the man said something to the woman. The woman's body language was one of fear. Then the heavy set man headed for the back of the building.

Reese crossed the street and went to the back of the building. It was nothing more than a narrow strip between the furniture building and the business directly behind it, a van might fit but not a semi or large delivery truck. It was considered a fire break lane.

Reese walked to the back door marked Furniture and looked at the lock, standard. He saw there were no cameras in the little alley but there was an alarm on the back door. It took him all of a minute to disable the alarm and slip into the back door. It started to rain as he entered.

As he had figured, this back door led to a storage area. There were several metal racks of varying heights with different styles of wooden furniture stacked on them. There was the smell of wood and polish in the room, along with the smell of processed cowhide. Most of the furniture had seats made of stretched hide.

Stepping between two high racks, toward the far wall Reese set the bag down he'd been carrying and unzipped it. He reached in and his hand found what he wanted first. He pulled out a Kilo of Cocaine. He had liberated this some time ago from some bad guys, and as he knew, you never could tell when you might need to plant something extra. A Kilo was long time jail term, and that's what he had left in the garage. Reaching in he took the same cloth he had previously used and made sure there were no prints on the taped package. Reaching over he placed it under a cushion on a couch, dogs would have no problem finding it. Next he put the cloth back inside the bag and pulled out a small canister about the size of his palm, it had a large ring attached to a pull pin, this he dropped into his pocket.

He located the office. It was a stand alone, segregated room with a door and medium sized window that faced horizontal to the back door, poor design.

The man he assumed to be Alverez stepped out of a doorway to an enclosed area and bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Maria, get the hell in here now…"

Reese stood still, waiting and watching.

The woman he had seen in the front came around a corner from what looked like a hallway. Her dark eyes were large and frightened. She looked up at the man and looked back immediately at the floor. Reluctantly she walked toward him, keeping her eyes lowered.

As she got close enough, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, almost jerking her off her feet. She stumbled and would have fallen except for the fact that the man held her upright.

She gave a yelp of pain. She tried to dodge the back hand open slap but couldn't because he had her arm. She saw him closing his hand. "Please Senor Alverez I-."

He jerked her toward him, letting go of her arm and grabbing her by the throat. "I told you if you made a mistake again-."

He never finished his sentence.

Reese materialized next to him and with a sideways slam to Alverez' head, Alverez let go of Maria, and fell sideways to the floor stunned.

Reese gently caught Maria before she fell to the floor with Alverez and steadied her. Looking at her reddening face and neck, the look that crossed his face and eyes turned to stone.

Maria looked at the stranger, seeing the dead look come into his eyes she tried to struggle, whimpering.

"I'm not going to hurt you…" Reese's voice was soft and raspy "You're safe…." He gently let go her arm and smiled, it didn't go to his eyes. "You need to leave here, can you do that?" He watched her large expressive dark eyes look from him to Alverez on the floor and then back to him, he saw her nod. "Good, do you have a key to lock the front door?"

"Yes, in my purse…" She pointed toward the office. It is in there." Her hands were on her neck rubbing where Alverez had grabbed her. Her eyes went to Alverez as he moaned and moved slightly.

Reese kept the smile as she looked back at him. "Ok, get your purse; flip the open sign to closed, lock the front door on your way out. Everything will be ok; Mr. Alverez is going to have a going out of business sale." He saw her start toward the office door. She walked around behind Reese to tip-toe past Alverez as she went into the office and came back out.

Slipping past Alverez who was struggling to get to his hands and knees she started for the hall that led to the show room. She stopped just inside the hallway, and turned back toward Reese. "Thank you. I wanted to quit this job anyway…" With that she ran out.

Alverez staggered to his feet, remaining hunched over, and growling like a bear he ran headlong at Reese.

Reese moved lightly on his feet and side stepped the lunge as he sent another fist into the side of Alverez' head. He didn't see the knife flash until the last second. Reese tried to spin away and instead of being gutted, the knife cut through the flesh on his right side.

Alverez took the hit and staggered, but kept the knife at the ready in his hand. He caught his balance and turned. The man had been quick, damn quick. That move should have spilled his guts all over. He looked at him, his eyes narrowed as he took in the fit figure, the stance. "Smart Ass I presume?" He remembered how Mendez had described him, tall guy in a suit,

Reese pulled his right hand away from his bloody side. "I told you it was _**Mr.**_ Smart Ass to you." John focused in on Alverez', dark eyes. He didn't look at the knife, he looked at the eyes, that's where the attack would start. He watched as Alverez rocked sideways slightly, coming up on the balls of his feet, his eyes narrowed and he lunged forward again, going left. But Reese had seen the shift in those dark eyes just before the move. He knew Alverez was really going to Reese's right, the injured side.

Reese countered the move. Letting the knife slip harmlessly past his right side, he twisted slightly and broke Alverez' arm just above the elbow. He heard the knife strike the cement floor. He rolled his hip, drawing Alverez' body to him and using the momentum sent the man flying into one of the metal stacks of furniture.

Alverez hit the metal rack and dropped to the floor, screaming in pain and rage.

Reese looked down at his side. Hearing noise he glanced back toward Alverez to see the man getting to his feet. John felt a little shock run through his body. Hitting the metal shelves as hard as he did, Alverez should not have gotten up.

John moved into a defensive stance, left foot forward, shoulders squared to Alverez, hands ready and relaxed. Again he looked to the man's eyes. He realized Alverez' right arm was dangling at an odd angle. He saw the move in those dark eyes before it was made.

Alverez bellowed and using his left arm like a claw he ran headlong at John. Spittle came from his mouth as he actually got a hold of John's suit jacket and with an incredible move of strength he jerked sideways.

They went down in a pile. Alverez, his dark eyes full of rage slammed his hand down on top of the cut flesh on John's side.

John felt the pain but would not let it register. He drew his left foot up then using his right hand like a wedge he shoved Alverez away from him. Reese rolled to his feet, didn't hesitate and stepped toward Alverez as the man scrambled to his feet and bellowing again lunged again for Reese. John stared straight at Alverez' eyes, He started to move to the right and then shifted his weight to his left foot and with a short kick he planted his heel to Alverez' right kneecap as the man took a step with his left leg. John felt the knee cap shatter.

There was a wild animal scream from Alverez and he folded to the floor.

John moved back, glancing around the little warehouse section of the store. Trying to hear over the moans and sobbing of Alverez John started to move toward where he had left his bag stashed. He would grab the bag; call 911 as he was leaving. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. His left hand reached back to the gun at the center of his back and in one fluid motion he pulled and fired as Alverez used his left hand to throw the knife that he had landed next to.

It was a sideways throw, there was a lot of rage and pain behind it, and it was very accurate. He died knowing he had hit his target.

POI


	13. Chapter 13

Please Read and Review, the only reward I receive, Thank You.

Finch stared at the woman like she was an alien being. It had taken him some time to figure out what Reese had done. He had wondered why John had left with that smirk on his face. Finally in frustration, he had asked Joan why she was fussing over him.

"John told me you needed taking care of." This, as she was trying to assist him into a chair. She was to take care of Harold that's what John had told her to do.

Finch's eyes narrowed behind the heavy black frames he wore. Reese would pay and pay dearly for this intrusion.

Joan had him sitting in one of the over stuffed chairs, pillows behind his back and a smaller one rolled up behind his neck and head. His legs were propped up on a footstool with another pillow under his heels. She had offered to give his leg a massage. He had had to almost fight her to get her to leave his legs alone.

Finch decided to go along with her taking care of him. She seemed to be very happy about it. He also made sure he didn't go near the blue jacket.

Finch removed the blanket she had brought to cover his lower torso because he had accidently said something about the temperature being cool in the room But the comment had been directed at Joan. He thought she looked a little chilled. He tried to get her to take her antibiotic, which John had left for him to do. He asked her if she was hungry and she showed him the empty dessert box from Delmont's, an upscale restaurant. It surprised him that John had known about Delmont's. Before he had been shanghaied into sitting all propped up in the chair, he had seen the food containers from the restaurant in the trash. In talking to her, he found out that she liked Sencha tea as much as he did.

She found the Sencha tea leaves in the cupboard and actually knew how to brew it correctly. She found the tea pot and cups after Harold told her where they were located. Joan actually asked him if he like it brewed mild or strong.

"I prefer mine brewed strong if you can." Her knowledge surprised him. Harold looked at her a little shocked. This woman still had a very intelligent mind. She brewed the tea, gave him his cup and then taking a cup of her own, sat down across from him, tucking the jacket under her as she sat.

"Mrs. Freeman would-."

"Joan…my name is Joan." Anger touched her voice. She turned toward Finch, glaring at him.

Finch saw the change in her hazel eyes. He smiled, setting his tea cup back onto the saucer on the little table next to the overstuffed chair. "I apologize, Joan." He put his hands on the edges of the armchair. "I was wondering something?"

She settled back in the chair she was sitting in. She pulled it over to sit closer to Finch. "What are you wondering about Harold?" She sipped her tea, her free hand dropped down and touched the blue jacket it was still there.

"You knew John when he was on the streets. What was he like?"

Joan looked over her cup at Harold. She thought he was a strange man…reminded her of an owl…Or maybe even one of those funny troll dolls, the ones with the stand up hair. She smiled at that thought.

Finch saw a smile cross her face and waited, his posture remaining patience and relaxed.

Her hazel eyes sparkled. "John is an amazing young man," Her facial expression changed slightly, going to a sad look. "You know, for a long time he didn't want to live. He really did want to die." She shook her head slightly. "He had terrible nightmares. He would argue with people who were not there. He would mumble about a woman named Cara and a guy named Snow." She took another sip of tea. "He told me once that he had been tortured." A shiver ran through her body, she looked at Harold. "He lost someone, a girl, her name was Jessica. Sometimes, he rambled on about how he couldn't come and save her." She looked away and then back at Finch. "Several times he fought people that were not there. Once old Roy tried to wake him out of a dream and he almost killed him." She sighed. "That's when he started wandering more and more. He had been so ashamed and frightened by what he almost done." Her sad face broke a smile, a chuckle sounded. "He would bring us all kinds of food, sometimes fruit and vegetables or dinners, sometimes expensive gourmet foods." She shook her head. "I don't know how he did it. One evening he showed up out of the blue with a huge bag that had four Maine Lobster dinners, complete with clarified butter…in the middle of winter!" Her chuckle turned to a laugh. "And they were still hot…" She shook her head. "You know he talks to himself?" Her laughter stopped abruptly. Her eyes fixed on Harold. "But I don't think he's crazy."

Finch reached over with one hand and picked up his cup of tea and taking a moment, he sipped the brew. "No…He is not crazy."

POI

John stood staring at Alverez, anger vibrating from every pore. He hadn't wanted to kill Alverez, he had just wanted to rough him up, call Joss and have him arrested for possession. But Alverez had made a bad choice.

He moved out of the shooting stance, shifting the gun from his left to his right hand. His eyes looked down at the knife sticking out of his lower left side. It was buried to the hilt in his flesh. The pain was starting to register behind the adrenalin rush. The blood oozing out from the left side of his flesh was now staining his shirt and matching the right side, where a four inch gash in his shirt and his flesh bled freely. Slowly reaching down he wrapped his left hand around the handle of the knife. He looked forward, focusing his eyes on a distant spot and yanked the knife out as straight as he could, he removed it.

He made no sound. The knife involuntarily dropped to the cement floor with a clang. He swayed slightly. Drawing a deep breath he felt the sweat pop out on his face. He blinked his eyes, concentrated on his breathing and made his mind focus on the next move.

Reese felt the shock to his body. He drew in a deep breath and felt pain erupt from both wounds. Walking stiffly he moved around to where he had left his bag. Grabbing the strap he carried it back to where the knife lay. With effort he put the bag on a shelf that was waist high, on the metal rack close to where he had dropped the knife. Wrapping his left arm around his body, holding the gaping four inch wound together, he bent over with an effort and retrieved the knife with his right hand. Pain erupted in both wounds. He set the knife on the shelf and unzipped the bag. Sweat streamed down his face, his shirt was clinging to his body. He retrieved two things out of the bag, the towel he had used to wipe the packages of Cocaine and a much smaller bag of white substance. He put both on the shelf. With his left hand he took the knife and cut a small slit in the bag. Turning the knife level and using the flat width of the blade, he withdrew cocaine from the bag. Opening the hole in his shirt with his right hand, he carefully laid the blade against gaping slice in his skin. Laying the powder along the length of the slice, he tipped the blade up so the white powder fell into the wound. There was a fleeting moment of burn and then the whole wound went numb; the flow of blood was staunched by the cocaine.

John left the substance on the knife and dropped it back to the floor. He wiped his left hand glove on the towel, leaving streaks of blood. Putting his left hand to his mouth he pulled his left glove off with his teeth and dropped the glove into the bag. Reaching up with his left hand he unbuttoned the top four buttons of his shirt, giving him access to his torso. Taking the towel he stuffed it down against the puncture wound in his left side. The blood that was pulsing out of the hole was a dark red. His mind registered that color was 'not good'.

He was operating in auto-mode, like a robot. His survival instinct had kicked in. He put the small bag of Cocaine back into the black bag, zipped it up. Taking the strap he put it over his right shoulder and stepped away from the metal rack. The bag dropped down and bumped against his right hip, as he headed to the back door.

Using his gloved hand he opened the door and stepped out. Turning he walked back the way he had come. It was still raining. He heard and saw no one until he was almost back at the parking garage. He had parked on the bottom floor and as he came into the garage he saw a woman walking to her car that was three spaces away from where he was parked.

The woman, nicely dressed in business attire gave him a long look. She turned and walked quickly to where her car was parked, seeing the man slowly following her. Looking at him as he past by her and her car she could see that the man was dripping wet, his face looked ashen, his green eyes looked stark against the pallor of his skin. He was wearing a nice business jacket. As he stepped past her car, she let go of the canister of pepper spray that was in her purse and pulled her keys out. She hurriedly got into the car, locked all the doors and getting the key into the ignition, she hastily pulled out of her parking slot and left, going the opposite direction.

Reese pulled his car keys out, using the remote he started the car and unlocked it. Opening the door to the driver's side he tossed the bag in, and then slid into the driver's seat. It took him two tries, but he got the key into the ignition and put it into the on position. The car remained running. He looked in the review mirror, seeing green eyes full of pain as he dropped the car into reverse and backed out.

POI

Finch and Joan sat and talked for well over three hours. She and Finch shared two more cups of Sencha tea and Joan found that Harold was a lover of books. They discussed books for an hour. To his surprise Finch was even been able to get her to take her medicine.

They also found out that they both loved Lo Mein Noodles from the same restaurant, Lo Fats. Finch had them on his speed dial and even though they were out of their address delivery area, when Finch had mentioned his name, Mr. Wren, the owner Lee Wong told him, he would have it delivered to the address Finch given him.

Finch finally got Joan to let him sit in the chair without all the pillows. She asked about his injuries and Finch responded just saying that there had been an accident. He had watched her slowly become more and more agitated, and then she had excused herself and went into the master bathroom for a few minutes. When she came back out she seemed to be in better spirits. He could smell the whiskey on her breath.

There was a knock at the door.

Finch reached a hand up to his lips and gestured for Joan to be quiet as he got up and went to the door. The front desk had not called up. That was the rule for deliveries of any kind, deliveries were always announced. He hobbled to the door and looked out the peep-hole.

It was Dr Tillman. He opened the door and saw her surprised look. He saw her glance at the number on the door, looking a little confused.

"I'm sorry…I think I have the wrong apartment." She was carrying a gym bag in her arms.

Finch smiled and adjusted is glasses. "No, Dr. Tillman, you have the right apartment." He moved back and gestured for her to come in.

She looked at him, she knew the voice. "You're the gentleman that called me, you are… Mr. Finch?" She looked at him again. There was something familiar about him. She knew him!

"Yes, John is off on an errand. Please come in." He gestured toward the bag she carried. "May I help you with that?" He moved to take the heavy looking bag from her.

She saw him move. "You came into the ER?" Her brown eyes widened, she remembered him, remembered seeing the x-rays of his neck vertebral column, full of metal screws.

Finch gave her an odd look. "Yes, I was having some extreme pain and you gave me a prescription until my regular doctor got back in town, and I want to thank you for that again." He gestured toward Joan who was sitting quietly in her chair. "And thank you for taking care of Joan. Your expert care took a lot of worry off John's shoulders.

Dr Megan Tillman turned and smiled at Joan. "Hi, Joan." Dr. Tillman did a quick assessment of Joan, she saw her color was good, her eyes were tracking and she looked in high spirits.

"Hi Doc…What ya got in the bag?" Joan's face broke into a smile, her hazel eyes glittering at the thought of something in a bag.

"Joan, you are looking well. I brought supplies for the med kit that we used. How does the shoulder feel?" She moved to the table and set the bag down. Actually she had come to see John, restocking the supplies was an excuse. She had also wanted to check on Joan, But she wanted to see him again.

Joan slowly got to her feet and shuffled over to the table. Touching the gym bag, she unzipped it and peaked into the bag. "Harold here is getting us food from Lo Fats…They got great noodles." She hooked the bag with her finger and drew it closer to her, looking inside the bag for a long minute.

Finch's face turned to a frown. He had had a thought, and he reacted quickly. "Joan, do you want to get Dr. Tillman a cup of tea?"

Megan started to say no thanks, but the look on Finch's face, his eyes going wide made her change her mind.

Joan looked up from the bag and smiled at Tillman. "Yes, let me get you some tea." She started to reach for the bag.

Finch moved quickly, and he scooped the bag up. "I'll restock the med kit while you two ladies catch up." He saw comprehension come to Megan's face.

"What kind of tea are we having Joan?" She headed for the kitchen.

Joan glanced at Harold for a long moment but as Megan got closer to the kitchen and 'Joan's tea,' she hurried after Megan. "Its Sencha Green tea…Harold has it imported."

Finch breathed a sigh of relief. He took the bag to the bedroom and to where Reese had said they kept the med kit in the storage bin.

POI


	14. Chapter 14

As always, I receive no money for this, they do not belong to me. I just like to write about them. Please read and review if you like it let me know, if you don't let me know…

Finch listened to Dr Tillman and Joan in the other room. Joan was telling Megan about the wonders of Sencha tea. He set the medical bag on the bed. He glanced at his wrist watch and had a bit of a start, it was well over three hours since John left. He knew John had contacted Detective Carter and sent her to the meeting with Jesus Mendez's. But there had been no word since. Finch reached into his pocket and went to retrieve his cell phone, it wasn't there. He reached into the other pocket, not there. Patting his suit coat he discovered the cell phone was gone. He reached down into both pants pockets, no phone. He turned and walked to the doorway between the bedroom and the rest of the apartment, his eyes came to rest on Joan. She was showing the Doctor how the proper steeping method produced the strongest brew.

Harold moved into the main room and saw a set of hazel and a set of brown eyes look up at him.

Megan didn't know this man, but that something was amiss was clearly on his face. "Mr. Finch is there something wrong?"

Joan looked over at Megan. "That's Harold." She said with a smile.

He looked at Joan, his right eye brow raised, his voice a flat even tone. "I seem to have misplaced, my cell phone." He saw Joan touch her blue jacket. "I am worried about John, he has not checked in. I need to find the cell phone to contact him." Finch saw Dr. Tillman looked over at Joan; she had seen the look Finch had given her.

Dr Tillman straightened up and looked over at Joan. She had also seen her touch the ever present jacket. "I'll bet Joan could find it…" She looked at Finch, smiling. "Joan told me she was great at finding things." She looked back at Joan. "What do you think Joan? Think you can find the lost cell phone? It's very important."

Finch took a couple steps closer to them. "John might be in trouble and need assistance." He couldn't believe this woman had pinched his cell phone right out of his pocket.

It was an impish smile that went from Joan's face into her eyes. "I think I can find it…"

She stepped away from the kitchen counter and went into the bedroom, she was there only a moment and when she came out, she had in her hand, Harold's phone. She walked to where he was standing and reaching out she dropped it into his outstretched hand. Joan looked at him shyly. "I found it…" She smiled then headed back to the pot of tea. "Tea is ready. Would you like some?" She was looking at Dr. Tillman as she said it.

Finch saw that the phone had been powered off. He quickly started hitting buttons.

Dr. Tillman smiled and shook her head. "I think I need to be heading back to the hospital, I came over on my lunch hour." She looked from Finch to Joan. "Joan you seem to be doing well, keep the bandage clean, and I will see you tomorrow…ok?" As she headed for the door, she saw Finch turn on the phone, and a worried look crossed his face.

Finch looked at the phone as it powered up, ran its diagnostics and then showed three missed calls all from Reese. His eyes widened as he started to press the message button.

Megan reached the door and started to open it as she saw the worried look on Finch's face turn to concern. Her hand turned the door knob, but the door opened on its own accord. She spun to see what was pushing against the door and got only a glimpse of a tall, pale faced man in a dark suit coat as he collapsed in on top of her. They went to the floor together. Megan made a little squeak of surprise as the weight of the body fell against her and they landed in a heap on the carpet. It took her a fleeting moment to realize it was John. He was hurt, and she thought he was bleeding.

Instinctively John had reached for the body in front of him as he started to fall; he basically collapsed on top of her.

Finch dropped the phone into his pocket and moved as fast as he could toward the door. He saw Dr. Tillman struggling under John's body weight.

Joan stood frozen next to the kitchen counter.

Finch took Megan's outstretched hand and with her using her one free leg he was able to help extract her from under John's prone body. He helped her to her feet and assisted her as she straightening her clothing that had been pulled astray. He saw blood streaks smeared across her blouse.

Megan took one look at the side of John's face that she could see and glanced at Finch. "We have to call an ambulance…" She started for the phone.

"No…We can't!" Finch reached out and touched her on the arm.

She turned and saw the look on his face.

Megan didn't even hesitate. She moved to John who was lying on his stomach. She knelt down next to him and did a quick inspection. Her hands moved over his back and legs, checking for other injuries, broken bones, lumps. Then she moved slightly and checked his left arm and hand, his right hand was under his body. She took his left arm and gently moved it above his head. She was going to roll him to the left. Taking her hand she moved it to support his neck.

Finch moved to stand at Reese's head and with a little difficulty he knelt down, taking care to avoid John's left arm. He looked expectantly at Megan. "I'll keep his head even with his body." He saw her nod and he placed his hands on either side of Reese's head, sliding one hand under his cheek.

Megan moved her hand away from John's neck and repositioned herself. She suddenly felt Joan kneeling at her side. Joan's hands were shaking but they went to John's legs. There were tears and fear in her eyes. "I can help roll his legs." Her voice trembled with emotion.

"Ok, on three…" Megan looked at both of them. "One, two...three."

They rolled him over.

Joan gasped and moved back, her face going ashen colored. She lurched to her feet and ran for the bedroom.

"His face feels cold." Finch still was supporting Reese's head with his hands.

"He's in shock." Megan took John's right hand, unclamping it from his dress coat. It had been draped across his middle and laid it to his side. She unbuttoned his jacket and pulled the sides back.

His white shirt, the whole lower half, from the center of his chest down to his belt was covered in blood. There was a rip on the right hand side and a small hole on the left. She saw where he had put the towel against his left side, soaking up the blood. Reaching up she grabbed his shirt at the buttons and with a practice ease ripped the shirt open.

She looked at Finch. "Can you get me the med kit?"

Finch got to his feet and headed into the bedroom. He went to the bin where the med kit was stored, opened it and pulled it out. As he walked past the bed he grabbed the bag that the Doctor brought.

He set the bags down on either side of her. "What else do you need…?" He looked up, suddenly becoming aware the door was still wide open with Reese half inside. Adjusting his glasses nervously he motioned toward the door. "Perhaps we need to get him further in the room and shut the door."

Megan glanced over her shoulder. She stood up, grabbed the bags and moved them out of the way. "I can pull him back; you shut the door." She moved around to John's head bent over and grabbed his jacket at the shoulders. In a practiced move she cradled his head on her forearms. She saw Finch move toward the door as she used her body weight to pull him across the carpet. She had to do it three times to get him all the way in. Finch shut the door.

The apartment phone rang. Finch moved to answer the phone as Megan moved back to John's side.

She reached for the bag first and pulled it to her. The med kit was next to her. She looked at the slice across his right side and shook her head. It was red, deep, and angry looking, but it wasn't bleeding. She could see that some sort of powder had been thrown against the wound. A dark crust had formed. The hole on his left side was oozing blood.

"Yes, send it up." Finch dropped the phone back in the cradle and headed for the door, pulling a money clip out of his pocket. He opened and slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

Megan saw none of this her concentration on John. The hole on his left side was not easy to see. Jumping up, she went to the couch and pulled three pillows off the couch and came back. Again kneeling between the two bags, she set the pillows down. Reaching a hand up under his left shoulder, she pushed John's shoulder up. With her free hand she grabbed a pillow and shoved it under, behind his shoulder. Next she took his head and lifted it, placing a pillow under it to keep it level with his shoulder. She now moved to his hips, and doing the same thing there, she pushed-rolled his hip and placed the other pillow under the back of his hip and lower back.

She heard him moan. He was propped so his left side was up, his right side down.

Megan reached up and touched his face. His cheek was cold and clammy. He was definitely in shock. "John…?" She kept her hand on the side of his face. She gave his check as little pinch as she spoke. "John I need you to stay awake. Can you open your eyes for me?" When she didn't get a response, she took her hand and moved it down to the middle of his chest. Taking her knuckles, she pressed down in the center of his breast bone, bearing down in a twisting motion. She saw his eyes flutter open in response to the pain. "John, stay with me…come on… stay awake…" She turned her attentions back to his left side that was now exposed. She grabbed the med kit and opened it. She didn't look, she heard Finch come back into the room, and she could smell food.

"Dr. Tillman, what can I do?"

She had seen enough of these to know it was a deep knife wound. "I will need some warm soapy water. We need a blanket to cover him when I am done." She didn't look up. Her concentration was on the small hole in his left side. She peeled his jacket back as far as it would go and pulled the shirt as far away as she could from his torso. The blood had dried and it stuck in a couple spots.

Reaching for the bag, she pulled it to her and unzipped it. Her hands searched for the object she wanted. Her hand grasped the plastic covered bundle of sterile wipes. Pulling them out, she set them to the side and reached back inside, finding the box of gloves. She set the box to the side, stabbed her fingers into the easy open lid and drew out a couple of latex gloves. She pulled them on, then she reached into the bag again and her fingers found the bottle she was looking for.

She pulled out a bottle of 5% solution iodine. Popping the cap on it she set it down, grabbed the wipes and opened the package. Taking several wipes, she doused them with the iodine and started wiping around the wound in his left side. She saw Finch's feet on the other side of John's body and looked up.

He was standing with a blanket draped over one arm, holding the bowl they had used earlier to clean Joan's shoulder filled with water and soap. His face was pinched and pale looking and his eyes were wide behind the dark frames.

Dr. Tillman motioned for him to put everything down on the floor. Her eyes went back to the wound. She felt around the area, seeing John flinch in pain, which was actually a good sign. She felt his body stiffen under her hands.

His eyes opened, but he didn't move, didn't react. He blinked a couple times and licked his dry lips. Moving his head just slightly, he saw Finch kneeling down next to him.

"John…it's Megan." Her hands remained touching his side. She saw just the slightest movement of his head, an acknowledgement. "Can you tell me what kind of knife it was?" She didn't look, but she felt Finch look at her.

John licked his dry lips again and swallowed. "Switchblade…straight." His voice was a soft whisper. He knew why she was asking. He had attended to enough knife wounds to know that if it had been a serrated blade there could be some serious complications.

Her hands against his skin felt the rise and fall of his breathing. "How long was the blade?"

"Four…" He made a small sound, closing his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again they were wet looking, his eye lashes wet. "Four inches…" He said it as he expelled his breath.

"I am going to set you up with an IV." She reached into her bag again and pulled out an IV bag and the tubing. She looked up at Finch. "Could you bring the chair over here? We can use it to hang the IV on." Reaching into the med kit, she reached in and her fingers found the cut down scissors. Without thinking, she put the scissors along his left wrist, slipping the jacket and shirt material between the blades. The thick, short blades and long handle made it easy to cut through the dress jacket and shirt. She cut all the way up toward his shoulder. When she was done, she peeled the material back away from his arm. She noticed a bruise about the size of a fist on his upper arm. Reaching again into the bag, she pulled out some small packets of alcohol wipes. She took one and opened it, applying the wipe to just slightly above the elbow above the fold in the arm, not in the bend but at the side.

Her hand reached into the med kit and she found the tourniquet. She placed it above his elbow but below the bruise. She saw the vein she had felt pop to the surface. Taking the IV bag, she reached out and handed it to Finch and felt him take it from her. She took the tubing and unrolled it, opening the valve in the tubing and letting the liquid flow down as she uncapped the needle. She established flow. Taking the needle, she recapped it and reached into the med kit for the tape. Her hand searched, and it took a couple seconds, but her hand finally found the tape. She had continued to watch John's face. He was regulating his breathing. "John on a scale from one to ten, ten being severe, where is your pain level?"

"Four…" He whispered the word out.

Her face drew down in a frown. She knew his pain level had to be higher. You didn't sustain this amount of damage and call it a four. She watched as his eyes slowly closed and opened again. Her fingers were pulling lengths of tape and tearing them. She had what she needed.

"Ok… you are going to feel a little stick…" She grabbed the tubing, uncapped the needle and pressed it against the bulging vein in his arm. "Stick." She inserted the needle into the vein. Taking the tape she had stuck to her arm, she secured the needle in place. She reached up and pulled the tourniquet off. "John, are you allergic to any medication?"

Finch answered. "No he isn't."

She wiped again at the dark blood flow coming from the wound and looked up at Finch. "I think he needs more medical care than I can give him here. The dark blood is from arterial flow. It has to be a small nick or he would have bled out before now. There is a possibility that a kidney, gallbladder or maybe even an intestine has been nicked. We are going to need x-ray-."

"Finch…No!" The intensity on John's face showed his fear. "We can't -."

"John…" Finch's soft voice silence John's words. "We can handle this…" Finch reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

"Finch!…no…" John sucked in a breath. His green eyes narrowing at Finch as anger crossed them.

"John, I have made some changes at the 'Research Facility'." His eyes went to Dr Tillman. "I have a fully equipped medical…Emergency room at a Research Facility that I have financial interest in."

Megan looked at the strange little man. She saw a hint of an odd smile touch his lips. "I am not a surgeon…" Worry, concern and fear crossed her face as she gestured down to Reese's side. "This is going to need a surgeon."

The smile stayed on Finch's face. "It even comes equipped with a fully qualified surgeon."

POI


	15. Chapter 15

Please read and review

Finch made the necessary phone calls, setting everything up, alerting the Facility, the surgeon and a medical transport company.

Megan prepared John for transport. She dressed his wounds; got him stable and kept him awake. She used the blanket that Finch had brought to keep him warm

Reese moving in and out of awareness opened his eyes and looked around the room. He shifted his head slightly and looked at Megan who was still kneeling next to him, holding his hand. Her brown eyes were studying him there was concern written in them. He ran his tongue over his lips. "Where is Joan?"

"She's in the bathroom." Megan saw worry cross his face.

"Is she alright?" His eyes close, caught his breath, pain flashed across his face.

When John opened his eyes again, she smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'll check on her." Megan let go of his hand and came to her feet, disappearing into the bedroom.

"Finch!" John hissed the name with anger. He knew he was just a couple steps away.

"John, I have everything taken care of. I will need to go down to the entrance and bring the transporter up. I already have a cover-."

"This is too risky; The Company is tracking just this scenario…" The more agitated he got the weaker his voice was.

"See Joan…" Megan's voice drifted into the room. "He's going to be fine…"

John shifted his head again and looked toward the bedroom. His expression quickly changed from anger to concern for another. He saw that Joan had her blue jacket on. She had been crying her eyes were red and her face covered with red blotches. She was visibly shaking. He watched as she moved into the room walking to him, fear written on her face. She hunkered down next to him. She reached out with a shaking hand and touched the side of his face. "I can't lose you…" Her voice shook with emotion, and there was a wild fear in her eyes.

Reese raised his hand; taking her free hand he squeezed it. "I promise…I am fine…Just need a couple stitches…" He blinked his vision back into focus. His face took on a look of intensity. "Please, stay here another day. The streets are safe, but I want you here…Please, stay here for me…" He and Finch had received a text from Carter telling them they had caught the guys in the garage/warehouse.

Finch received a call. He answered it quickly and hung up. Looking over at Megan he whispered something and then headed out of the Penthouse.

Reese out of the corner of his eye saw Megan look down at herself. She turned and walked into the bedroom. Reese looked back at Joan. "Promise me you will stay…"

Joan, moved by the emotion and intensity on his face, smiled and nodded. She chuckled. "Ok, for you…"

POI

Finch weaved a believable story with the front desk, telling them that Mr. Rooney had eaten something that had made ill. They had a Doctor visiting them and she had administered a shot of adrenalin in the form of an EpiPen to stop the allergic reaction and just for safe keeping they were going to transport him to the hospital.

Megan helped the transport crew get him on the gurney and strapped in. She walked to the transport vehicle with them and then promised John that she would look in on Joan after her shift.

Finch thanked her and handed the code to the door to her. She already had the one to the elevator. Finch went to his car and followed the transport to the Research Facility. Megan went back to work.

POI

Megan worked through her shift. Normally nothing distracted her once she was on the floor, but she spent the rest of shift looking at the clock and her phone. Finch was going to call when the surgeon had finished his exam. She had worked an extra hour to cover her 'long' lunch. No one had noticed that she had come back in a different colored blouse. She was sitting in front of her locker when her phone went off. She looked at the number coming through on the ID and didn't recognize it. "This is Dr. Tillman."

"Mr. Finch here, Dr Tillman." His voice was low and sounded tired. "You were right. The surgeon found a nick in an arterial vein, but no organ damage that he could see. John was given blood. He is going to be on antibiotics for ten days and he is now resting quietly. I am trying to convince him to go back to the penthouse. I am sure I will win…"

There was a little hesitation in his voice and she suddenly thought of that strange little smile he had given her. She thought it was possibly on his face right now.

"The surgeon said that John had been prepped by an expert…Thank you."

"You are welcome Mr. Finch. I am just now leaving work and will check in on Joan."

"Joan is not at the Penthouse." His voice sounded concerned. "I sent a clean up crew, because there was blood on the carpet. They found the Penthouse empty…I have not told John and will not until we get back there."

"Is there somewhere I can look for her?" She stood up, shutting her locker and locking it.

"I would not know where to start. John said that the streets were safe for her but he didn't want her back out there until he was certain."

"When are you taking John back to the Penthouse?" Turning from the locker she headed out of the dressing rooms and toward the front doors.

"In a couple hours…Dr..." He hesitated. "The surgeon didn't want him moved for a few hours and this facility is not really set up for patient care."

She heard something in his voice, pain? "Mr. Finch are you alright?"

"Yes, it's just been a long couple days." His voice was tight sounding.

"If you would like, I can go to the Penthouse and wait. I will be there when you bring John back…" She swallowed a lump in her throat and fought back a sudden surge of tears. She owed John her life, had he not intervened in her plans. It had taken her some time but she realized he had been right, regardless of how much she wanted Benton dead. She would not have been able to live with herself.

There was silence on Finch's end for a brief moment. "Dr. Tillman, I think that would be an excellent idea."

"Good, then I will see you soon…"

POI

Megan arrived at the apartment complex and had both the doorman and the front desk ask after Mr. Rooney. She hadn't even known John's last name. Megan searched the Penthouse, but there was no Joan. She saw that the carpet had been cleaned. It was almost dry to the touch. She went back into the bedroom and stripped the bed. Looking through the built-in drawers she found the necessary sheets, pillow cases and another comforter to remake the bed. She left it turned down so that John could immediately lie down.

She had stopped and gotten herself something to eat. After making coffee she sat at the table and ate her sandwich. She saw that the Sencha tea and the food delivered before she had left were still sitting out, untouched. She threw the food out, washed everything up and then went and sat on the couch. She turned the TV on and within a few minutes she was fast asleep.

POI

"Mr. Reese, you are not walking out. You will ride in the wheel chair." Finch pointed to the wheelchair, he saw Reese's eyes narrow and a look came to his lips, the stubborn one. Finch didn't care. "I have the car waiting out front for us." They were in the little side room off the 'emergency' room. The room consisted of a medical bed, monitors, and three chairs, one of which Reese occupied. There was also a small dresser and a rack to hang clothing on.

John finished buttoning his clean, dark blue shirt. Where Finch had gotten it and the clean dress pants was a mystery. He glared at Finch for a long moment. Finch had helped him get the dress shirt on and had steadied him as he had put the dress pants on. Reese looked down at his shoes and socks, which Finch had slipped onto his feet.

John looked at Harold who was now standing with the wheelchair in front of him. Due to the medication the surgeon had given him the pain was a dull twinge, but he still had trouble getting dressed. The lower half of his torso was wrapped in a tight bandage. He had twenty inner stitches and twelve staples on his right side. His left side now matched his right side, plus a couple stitches in an arterial vein. It had irritated him that Finch had insisted on helping him. It would have taken him a little extra time but he could have dressed himself. He glared at Finch.

Finch rocked the wheelchair toward Reese again. Locking it in place he moved to Reese's side and gesturing toward the chair. "We need to get to the Penthouse."

Reese closed his eyes but he went ahead and slowly came to his feet. Moving rather gingerly he took the couple steps to the wheelchair and using his hands, he carefully sat down in the chair.

Finch moved to flip the foot stands down and saw a tight-lip grimace cross Reese's face as he tried to lift his left leg up to accept the foot stand. Finch knelt down and took Reese's foot, carefully lifting it out of the way then dropped the stand, quickly doing the same thing to the right side. He got back to his feet and gave Reese a look.

John's breathing was a little ragged for a few moments while the pain on both sides subsided back to the dull ache. He accepted the blanket that Finch produced and laid it over his legs. Finch said it was raining again. He reached down to unlock the brakes on the wheelchair.

Finch beat him to it and pushed the wheelchair out of the room and headed to the elevator and the waiting car, a smile on his narrow lips.

POI

As they arrived at the apartment, the doorman hurried to help Finch and John out of the limo while Damson and Ricks got the wheelchair out of the trunk. Damson and Ricks each had worked for Finch for several years now. They stayed at one of his large homes in the suburbs on Staten Island and they were on call 24/7. They were very loyal to Finch. They never asked questions of anything he required them to do, even taking a long haired, bearded bum from one of Finch's many lawyers in the middle of the night from the front of one of New York's finest police precincts and delivering him to their boss under the bridge that morning. They were very well paid and subsequently very happy to work for Mr. Finch. They had met the mysterious John on several occasions. They were always cautious around him. Their first meeting had ended with John bloodying both of them.

Finch cleared his voice as John started to move away from the limo. John stopped, turned slowly toward him and he saw the deadly look cross those green eyes. Finch stared at him for a long minute, not saying a word.

John gave Finch a glaring glance but waited for him to collect the wheelchair from Damson and take the three steps toward him. John turned and with great care lowered himself into the wheelchair. Damson started toward the wheelchair but Reese stopped him with a cold stare. The doorman jumped in and lowered the foot stands and Reese lifted his feet to the stands as the doorman turned from his crouch, leaped up and headed to open the front doors.

Finch turned toward Damson, the older of the two. "Gentlemen, thank you…Could you wait please? I will call down…" Finch pushed on the chairs handles and wheeled Reese into the lobby and the elevator. He nodded to the night man who had been holding the elevator for them.

"Mr. Rooney, glad to see you are all right…" He looked next at Finch. "Mr. Sparrow, the lady who I think is a Doctor went up earlier." He punched his code in for the penthouse floor and stepped out of the elevator. "She gave us the proper access password. Hope everything is fine…" The door closed on him as he saw Mr. Sparrow's smile and the dark look on Mr. Rooney's face.

John frowned, glaring at his reflection in the polished metal door. He locked his eyes on Finch's reflected image. "Is Joan alright?"

Finch reached up and adjusted his glasses. "Dr. Tillman volunteered to be here when you got back. You are going to need some personalized care."

John's green eyes narrowed. "You didn't say anything about Joan?" He saw Finch fidget. "Finch…?"

The elevator opened and Finch pushed the wheelchair to the door and punched in the code. He could feel the anger building in Reese. He felt the vibration through the handles of the wheelchair.

Megan was stretched out asleep on the couch but she sat bolt upright as they came in. She blinked the sleep away, her mind still trying to catch up. She saw the pensive look on Finch's face and the anger on John's.

Reese reached down and as soon as the door was shut, he locked the wheels on the chair. With grim determination he got to his feet. His right arm automatically supported his torso. His eyes searched the room. "Joan?" He called as he moved toward the bedroom.

"John." Finch's voice sounded small. "She's not here. She left." John stopped in the doorway between the bedroom and the rest of the apartment and turned back toward him. "And when were you going to tell me…? His voice was a seething hiss.

"Dr…V." He stumbled over the surgeon's name. "The surgeon wants you to rest, no activity. Rest!" He unlocked the wheels on the chair and pushed it over to the side, out of the way. "If you can give me a location. I will take the Limo and look for her."

Reese blew out a deep breath, his anger went with it. He looked from Megan to Finch. "She's probably back at the warehouse. She'll be safe. I doubt you can find her. Carter said they rounded the gang up. I just wanted her here for another day or two." His voice was full of concern. He leaned against the jam, suddenly feeling very tired. "I'll sleep for a few hours and then go look for her. His eyes went to Megan. "Beside Finch," his gaze went back to Finch with a raised eyebrow. "you're the one having spasms again." He had seen him in the limo several times stiffen and flex his position in the seat, turning slightly or moving his legs as if they hurt. "Megan should take a look at you." He locked eyes with Megan. "A Couple days ago he was having spasms so bad that I found him on the floor…" He turned and walked into the bedroom.

Megan turned toward the strange little man. "The spasms are caused from the fusion?"

"Dr. Tillman, I am fine. He's just changing the direction of interest. He's very good at that, diverting the point of interest as a magician would to create an illusion. It's what he does very well." He turned and headed to the door. "I will be back in a few hours." He reached into his pocket as he passed the table next to the door. "John is to have the antibiotics every six hours," He glanced at his wristwatch "He can have one in an hour. There is also pain medication if he wants it." He stopped and turned and looked at her. "Thank you for being here. I know you'll keep an eye on John." With that Finch was out the door.

Megan stood where she had been in front of the couch, looking from the door to the bedroom and then at the couch. She turned and headed for the bedroom door, silently standing just inside the door.

John was standing at the wall to ceiling window, looking out over a portion of Central Park. He knew Megan was waiting in the doorway. Still looking out at the view, he ran a hand over his face. "Thank you for taking care of Joan…" He heard her footsteps on the carpet as she closed the distance between them.

Megan stepped up next to him and looked out at the view. It was still dark outside and the lights were on in the park. The street below had a few cars moving down it but other than that there was no activity, even in the park. "She is an interesting personality." She turned her head and looked at his profile. "How do you know her?"

John continued looking out across the park area. He had seen a couple walking arm in arm. There was a person going from garbage can to garbage can and several kids moving through the back side of the park. It was a busy night. "I met her awhile ago. She kind of watched out for me for awhile…She's a good woman." His voice was soft and raspy.

"Yes she is." Megan turned toward him. "You should be resting." Reaching out she touched his sleeve. "Joan is going to be fine. She is a very savvy lady and if you are sick, you won't be of much help to her." She watched as he slowly turned his head toward her. There was tiredness etched into his face. She smiled. "Come on, at least lie down for awhile." She stepped toward the bed and felt him follow her. "Before you sit down, can I see the bandages? I'd like to inspect them?"

John gave her a long look; several quips flashed across his mind but didn't travel any further. He had left his shirt tails out, not tucked in. He took his right hand and raised the dark shirt up, raising his left arm up, putting his elbow at shoulder level. His jaw muscles didn't clench, but his whole face took on a look of stone.

Megan stepped over and turned a light on. She raised the right side of his shirt, inspecting above and below the bandages. "I am going to touch your skin." She gently placed a hand above the bandage, the skin felt warm but not hot to the touch. Looking up at his face, she moved her hands around the bandage line. "Does it hurt anywhere?" She had seen that same distant look on his face when she had dressed and cleaned the now little scratch that had been on his side.

"No…it's fine." His lips barely moved. His eyes remained unfocused.

She stepped back from him, looking up. "John…?" She saw him lower his chin, blinking his eyes as if suddenly he realized where he was. She saw his eyes focus in on her. "Sit down." She watched as he stepped closer to the bed, turned and sat down. With him sitting on the side of the bed, she was just slightly taller than he was. "Can you move back on the bed a little without hurting your wounds?" She watched as he held his breath and moved back. She tried to support him a little as he scooted back. "I am going to help you swing your legs onto the bed so you don't pull on your stomach muscles." It was then that she realized he was functioning on autopilot. She fought the tears that wanted to spill from her eyes as she watched this injured man who had to be in deep shock and extreme pain continue as if there was little to nothing wrong with him. She thought of the horrors he must have experienced to be able to put himself in a place where he could continue to function.

She had already laid the top sheet and comforter back out of the way when she had made the bed, anticipating he would immediately lie down and rest. She pulled his shoes off, left his socks on, and moved back to the head of the bed. She could see a fine sheen of sweat was now covering his face. She carefully reached across him and pulled the top sheet and comforter over him. His head looked comfortable on the single pillow.

She moved quickly into the bathroom, grabbed a wash cloth and ran cool water over it. Wringing it out, she went to John's side' and looked down at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing was even and slow. He'd gone to sleep. "John, I am going to wipe your face with a wet towel. Everything is all right." Reaching down she wiped his forehead and then both sides of his face. She turned off the light she had previously turned on to inspect the bandages.

He never moved.

She took the washcloth back to the bathroom, set it on the side of the sink then came back out. She walked to the front room grabbed his medications and took one of the straight backed chairs and dragging it into the bedroom. She set the pills down on the little side dresser next to the bed. Squaring the chair so she could watch John and the door to the front room, she sat down and tried to relax.

POI

Finch directed Damson and Ricks to the warehouse district. He had tracked John often enough to know this was one of the places where Joan might be. He had them pull the limo over at a side street and told them he was getting out.

Damson opened the door for him and gave him a long look, then looked down the darkened corridor that had a distinctive aroma especially with the rain.. "Ah Boss..." He saw Mr. Finch look at him. "I ahh…Think we should accompany you sir…"

Ricks had already gotten out of the car and walked around to their side of the car, his dark eyes scanning the shadows. Even though it was raining, there were 'fire' barrels burning with people gathered around them. For late night, early morning the whole alley was very active with movement. "Sir, I think Dam is right. Let us at least walk with you…"

Damson and Ricks exchanged a look and then they both looked at Mr. Finch. Both had noticed that he seemed to be in pain. They had seen him this way several times over the years. Damson had worked for him on occasion before the accident, though Damson never talked to anyone about it. Not even Ricks knew he had known Finch before. He had been sworn to silence years before and would die before he ever said anything. He had seen Mr. Finch change over the years from a cautious, well off computer geek to a secretive, extremely wealthy man of means who was some kind of a computer genius.

Finch gave them both a look but decided to err on the side of caution. "Fine… I am looking for a woman..?"

Damson and Ricks looked at each other as Mr. Finch stepped out in front of them and headed down the alley. Ricks rolled his eyes toward the sky and Damson almost tripped. But they pulled themselves together and followed their employer.

"She should be wearing a long blue jacket." Finch moved down the alley toward the warehouse section. There were pillars toward the back that supported a roof that had at one time protected up to fifty semi trucks and trailer from the elements. Now they were protecting the homeless. The inside of the warehouse had been converted to a shelter of sorts. A large amount of money had been anonymously donated for the shelter from a young financial wall street/entrepreneur whose uncle was in the food business. They had purchased this warehouse, converting it into what it was slowly becoming, a safe haven for all…

Finch caught a flash of blue, behind a far pillar. But then a man stepped out in a multi-colored jacket, so Finch continued to look.

Damson and Ricks trailed along behind him.

POI

Megan shifted for the umpteenth time trying to get a comfortable position. She finally gave up. She looked back at the chair as she stood up. This was the same chair John had sat in and looked so comfortable on. He had even slept in it sitting up. She shook her head, reached up and pulled on her neck with her hand, letting out a small groan. Heading into the guest bathroom, she used the facility and washed her face. She took her hair out of the bun and brushed it out, leaving it unbound. She turned and headed back into the bedroom.

She stepped close to the bed, glancing at her watch. John had been sleeping for a couple hours now, and he needed to take another antibiotic. Megan picked up the pill bottle, saw what it was and knew he would need to eat a little something with it. Heading into the front room, she went to the kitchen and found where he had stashed the crackers and cheese. She made a small plate, grabbed a glass of water with ice in it and walked back into the bedroom. Stepping to the side of the bed and the little nightstand next to it, she set the glass of water down and then the plate. She fumbled for a moment with the light switch and finally got it twisted into the on position.

John shifted a little on the bed drawing his right hand across his torso. He made a small noise deep in his throat.

Megan was on his left. Sitting down on the side of the bed, she reached over and took his left hand, holding it. "John…I need you to wake up and take some pills."

He made another small sound deep in his throat and drew in a deep breath. Blinking his eyes open, he shifted his head slightly and looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "I thought you were gone?" His voice was just a bare whisper. He smiled, and it traveled across his face and into his eyes.

"No, I am still here." She smiled back at him. She watched as his half closed eyes studied her. His smile went a little crooked.

He lifted his left hand from hers and caressed the side of her face. She was sitting close enough that he was able to put his hand at the back of her neck and he pulled her head down toward his face.

She was just startled enough that she complied with what he was doing. Beside she was physically attracted to him. She leaned forward placing, her hands so that she supported herself on the bed on either side of his upper chest. Taking care not to touch his sides. She leaned down into the kiss she knew was coming. She could smell the bandages, the soapy disinfectant they had used under the dressings and under all of that, she could smell him. He wore a very light after shave. She could see a heavy five o'clock shadow on the sides of his face and chin. His green eyes were unfocused, half open.

He pulled her closer to his lips and brushed a kiss across her own, drawing in her scent with a deep breath. He kissed her again, this time with a little more hunger behind it. He let his left hand run through her loose hair. Reaching with his right hand, he laid it at the small of her back and pressed his fingers into her back. "Babe…I have missed you so much…" He breathed it against her lips as he kissed her harder.

As he pulled her closer to him, her side brushed against his left side and she felt the shock go through his body. She felt his whole body stiffen and his hands moved away from her body. She pushed up a little, away from his face, and she saw recognition come into his eyes. She saw pain, fear, inward anger and shame fly across his face, and then his face transformed into that blank stone mask.

His eyes studied her face for a long moment. "I'm sorry." His eyes shifted and then came back to look at her. "I-."

She reached up with her right hand, putting her index finger to his lips. "Don't be sorry. I'm not." She bent closer to him, preparing to give him another kiss. She saw it come into his eyes, emotional pain, as her eyes studied his face. She was close enough to feel his breath on her cheek. "You still love her." Her voice was soft and filled with emotion. She studied every line on his face. "She was a lucky woman." She kissed him on the side of the cheek and straightened up, blinking her eyes. "You need to take the antibiotic…And eat a little something with it." She reached over and grabbed the pill bottle. "I think you should also take a pain pill so you will be able to move without too much pain." She started to move off the bed.

"Megan…?" He reached out to touch her arm as she stood up but, she stepped away from the bed, so his hand slowly lowered back to the bed. He closed his eyes for a long minute, and his lips tightened. He sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His eyes refocused in on her standing next to the night stand, holding the pills and the glass of water out to him. His head didn't move but his sad eyes looked over at her. "You don't want to get involved with me." His lips barely moved his eyes remained locked on her.

She took a half step closer to him, holding out the water and the pills. Her eyes narrowed. "Why, think you would break my heart?" Her voice quavered, she batted tears back.

"No…" It was a cold hard word. He lowered his head and looked at the floor.

"Then what?" Now there was a touch of anger in her voice.

He continued to look at the floor for a long moment, then slowly raised his head, his eyes locked on her. His eyes were moist. He swallowed, moving only his eyes as he glanced sideways and then back at her. His voice vibrated with controlled rage. "I told her to wait for me…I told her I was coming to protect her…I should have told her to run. She died because I couldn't get to her. She is dead because of who and what I am." John looked away. The emotions that were welling up inside his soul gave him more pain then the wounds on his body. He wrapped his right arm round his torso for support and came to his feet. He swallowed the lump and the bile that had formed in his throat and felt it almost choke him. He stepped closer to Megan, reached out and took the water and the pills from her shaking hands. He downed the pills and drank the water down. His knuckles were white around the empty glass. His eyes fixed on her brown eyes. He waited until she was looking directly at him. "It would have been better if I had shot her. It would have been kinder than putting her through the hell I let her wait in."

He saw Megan's stricken look, saw the tears well up and spill over, running down her cheeks. He turned and walked out of the room, into the living room. He walked over to the TV, opened the liquor cabinet and pulled out the first bottle his hand found. He poured a large amount of dark amber liquid into the water glass and put the bottle back. Raising the glass, he downed it. It burned all the way down but it didn't extinguish the pain. He reached again for the bottle.

"John…"

Her soft voice stopped him. He was slightly bent forward, left hand around the tall bottle. He slowly turned his head, looking back toward where the voice came from. She was standing in middle of the doorway, wiping her eyes and staring at him…

She half smiled. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee…"

POI.


	16. Chapter 16

Please read and review, the feedback helps me write. Again thank you Alice for correcting my mistakes...

John turned back to the cabinet, pulled the bottle back out, half filled the glass, and set the bottle back into its slot. He slowly straightened up. "I don't want coffee…" His voice was a deep hissing anger. He drank half the glass down and swiveled his head toward her.

Megan saw a deep coldness in his eyes as he turned toward her. She moved closer to him. She was within arms reach when she stopped and looked up at him. She could feel the anger radiating off him. His face had that hard-set look again, the small lines at the corner of his mouth had disappeared and his skin looked as if you were to touch his cheek it would feel like stone. His lips were not quite a frown but very close.

Megan drew a breath. She had a feeling she was treading on very thin ice. She had seen that when she had asked him that night in the diner if he had lost someone. She had watched as he had looked away, reining in the pain and anger that had wanted to surface and he had. She took the chance. "You once told me that everybody needs someone to talk to…" She was looking at his face. It was only because of that that she saw the change in his eyes. There was a fleeting moment of change and then the mask was back.

He spoke but barely moved his lips. "What's to talk about? I am a monster!" The stone look stayed on his face, more anger added to it. The corners of his eyes narrowed, his lips tightened.

Megan looked at him and she studied his face. She could feel the heat of anger coming off him but she instinctively knew it wasn't directed at her. Very slowly she reached out with her left hand, reaching for his arm, and she lowered her eyes to watch his arm.

He shifted slightly, turning a little more toward her, moving his arm away from her. His voice was a harsh whisper. "Don't touch me…you don't know me…you don't know the kind of man I am." He went to move his hand. "You have no idea of what I am capable of…" His voice had gone to a flat even tone. He couldn't believe she continued reaching for him. _'Don't you know that with one quick move I could kill you?' _Fear gripped at his very being as that thought popped into his head. Had he gone that far…His body froze at that thought. He swallowed hard sending the bile that came to his mouth back down into his burning soul.

She touched his hand at the wrist. The water glass was still gripped in his hand. She turned her hand and slid it down to take the water glass with the whiskey in it from his grasp. She put it in her right hand and reached back with her left hand and took his hand, lacing her fingers in his. She looked up at him. "Look at me."

As she took the glass from his hand, fury crossed his face for a fleeting moment. He turned his head and looked away, swallowing, trying to get full control of the emotions raging through him.

She squeezed his hand a little; his whole body was shaking, trembling, she could feel it but couldn't visibly see it. He was so in control of himself… She gave his hand another squeeze, this time a little harder. "John…Look at me."

Reese turned his head slowly; his body remained still, giving her a sideways glance. He started to look away again but her tug on his hand stopped him. He turned his head a little more, giving her the full dead look, a look he had developed over the years. The look he gave that allowed no one to know what he was thinking. He was in the zone. Here was where he had lost the little bit of himself that he thought was human. The little spark of humanity that had been extinguished years ago, he feared it no longer existed. Here he felt no physical or emotional pain. Here he could do what was needed to be done, function without thinking, and survive with no consciousness of what he had done.

Megan swallowed hard. A timid smile touched her lips. She saw the subtle change in his face…This was his monster face. "Lo…Look" her voice caught, the back of her mind was screaming at her to be cautious…He was on the edge. "At my eyes John, look at the look in my eyes. They don't see a monster…They see a man who saved my life, a man who cares for other human beings…And I can see in Joan that I am not the only one who you care for." She drew a shaky breath, fear creeping into her heart and mind. She was shaking as bad as the night he had stopped her from destroying her life. "John I see a man I can trust. I see a man willing to put himself in danger to save others."

She felt the change through his hand, his fingers flexed slightly.

"John, I trusted you not to turn me over to the Police Officer that night. I trusted you to stop Benton from coming after me…You can trust me John. You can trust what you see in my eyes." She stepped closer to him. Her eyes searched his face. "You helped me make a decision that night, I handed you the keys. You helped me remember my sister, you did that John…**You** did that…I am asking you to trust what you see in my eyes. It's the truth."

Reaching sideways she set the glass with the liquor in it out of the way, on the top of the TV counter top. She was shaking so bad she was afraid she would drop it.

Reese remained unmoving, but the word _'trust'_ in his mind redirected his thought process. His eyes shifted but with-in his minds eye he had a flashback. _He was sitting across the table from Benton. He had leaned forward, putting his hands within touching distance of his gun and he looked across the table at Benton. He didn't want to kill the man, but he would…without hesitation. 'Help me make the right decision.'_ He looked back at Megan. His eyes focused in on her worried eyes. _'Make the right decision Reese' _

She had seen the battle within. There had been no change in his face, but she knew the battle had been fought and she had won. She let a shaky breath out and felt the tension go out of her body. She saw him blink.

Reese drew a breath in and shifting his eyes, he looked to the side and then came back to look at Megan. He saw the fear in her eyes. He could feel her hand shaking. Hell her whole body was trembling. He relaxed his body, glancing at the floor he looked back at her. "Coffee would be good…" He gave her a small smile.

"You need to get something in your stomach besides coffee…" Her voice was still shaking. "I brought cheese and crackers out." She stepped toward the table and chairs and felt him not move with her. She stopped and turned and looked back at him. The monster was gone, but she felt his hand flex again. She pointed with her right hand. "Take a seat…I'll get the plate from the bedroom." She let go of his hand and walked into the bedroom.

She gathered the plate and walked back out into the room. He wasn't standing where he had been and he wasn't at the table. Fear bolted through her chest until she saw he had moved to the window. "Here..." She walked over to him, she offered the plate. "Eat at least a couple crackers. That antibiotic is really strong."

He turned slightly, moving carefully, taking a couple crackers.

She saw that the little half moon marks were back at the corner of his lips, and his eyes had softened. "I think Mr. Finch went to look for Joan." She took a piece of cheese and nibbled at it. Her eyes looked out at the lightening sky in the east. The clouds were becoming tinged with reds and gold. It was still raining, but it looked to the east that there was a break in the weather. "I'll get the coffee now?" She saw him nod; she turned and headed for the kitchen.

John turned and walked over to the table and pulling out a chair he carefully sat down. He was sitting so that he could rest his right elbow on the table. He put his right hand to his mouth, fist closed. Rubbing the knuckle of his index finger across his lips and chin he stared at the floor. His left hand lay across his torso. He felt the combination of pain killer, the antibiotic and alcohol along with the adrenalin making its way into his system. It would take a whole lot more than that to affect him.

His thoughts rambled: It had been wrong to kiss Megan. He had been dreaming of Jessica and when he woke, there she was, sitting on the side of the bed. That was how he had met Jessica, in the hospital. He had been wounded in combat and when he had come out of the surgery to take the shrapnel out of his back and stitch the three inch slice in his left shoulder/upper chest, she had been standing there smiling at him adjusting his covers. He had fallen in love with her smile. He loved to see her happy, because she smiled. When she smiled his whole world became still and peaceful. He saw her smile now, the way her eyes would light up. The small lines at the corner of her lips, they were almost dimples.

Megan turned and started to say something about the coffee but she stopped. She saw the look on John's face. He was relaxed he was thinking of something pleasant. She saw him smile behind his hand it went into his eyes and she instantly knew who he was thinking of. She turned back to the coffee maker and poured the cups of coffee. She knew he took his black. Picking up the cups, she walked over to the table and quietly set his down. Then she walked to the opposite side of the table and pulled out a chair and she sat down. She had left the plate of cheese and cracker in the middle of the table. She could wait. He had waited for her.

POI

Damson turned to Finch and smiled. "Hey boss…" When Finch looked at him, he pointed to a woman in a blue jacket standing next to a shopping cart next to a fire barrel, her back to a pillar.

Finch stopped and looked to where Damson was pointing. He drew in a deep breath and let it out, adjusting his glasses. He headed over to where Joan was standing.

He didn't see the look Damson and Ricks gave each other, but they flanked him as he walked toward her.

Finch stepped up to the barrel and put his hands out toward the fire. It did feel nice. The rain that was falling made several hisses in the fire before Joan look up and focused on Finch.

A big smile came to her face. "Harold…Well hello…Is John with you?" She looked around, seeing Damson and Ricks a couple feet behind Harold. She knew muscle when she saw it. Her smile disappeared. She cast a glance around her. The last time she had seen two men standing like that she had wound up in a mental institute, against her will.

Finch saw the change in her face. It took a fleeting moment for him to figure out what she was fearful of. He had read about her incarnation while researching the murder suicide. "Joan, they are with me…" He turned and gave them the signal and they both immediately backed away. "They are my drivers and bodyguards." He smiled at her.

She gave him a skeptical look but remained where she was. This was her corner actually it was a round pillar that supported the roof, but it belonged to her. Her cart was here; her boxes, her 'finds,' and everyone knew not to touch her things. "Is John ok…? He promised he was going to be fine."

Finch looked across the fire barrel at her. "Yes, John is resting, but he is concerned. He wants you to come back to the Penthouse with us."

Joan looked around the area. "I am safe here…happy here…Tell John when he gets on his feet to look me up. He knows where I will be." Her smile came back, going a little crooked. "Thank you Harold…"

Harold Finch looked across the fire barrel at her, he looked puzzled. "For what Joan?"

"For watching out for John. You know he is a very special person…even if he does talk to himself…"

POI

Epilogue

It was three nights before John showed up at the warehouse/ homeless shelter. It was late, sometime after midnight. He had been trailing a new number and seen them to their apartment. He moved in and out of the shadows and found Joan at her pillar. It had stopped raining two nights ago and it was a clear New York night. The fire barrels were lit and burning throughout the whole area. Some people slept, some were sitting in their areas and others were wandering around. It was a typical night. Joan was doing her thing that she did every night with her shopping cart. She took everything and examined it and rearranged it. John moved like a ghost in the darkness He waited until she bent down to pick something up off the ground. Then he silently stepped to the shopping cart and put a carry box with pastries and coffee on top of the small area at the top of the cart, on a level spot. He set it down and disappeared back into the darkness.

Joan straightened up and started to put what she had dropped back into the cart and she froze. She immediately smiled, looking around. She didn't see him but she knew who had given her this special delivery. "Thank you John…Come by when you can stay longer…" She laughed.

John smiled from the shadows. He whispered. "No Thank you Joan for watching out over me when I needed it…" He turned and faded into the deep darkness where he was most comfortable.

-30-


End file.
